


once you go hazy, you'll understand

by spellingbee



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety Attacks, Blanket Permission, Falling In Love, First Meetings, Fluff, Happy Ending, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Jet Star, Nonbinary Party Poison (Danger Days), Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Podfic Welcome, Post-Apocalypse, Sibling Bonding, Spooky, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Supernatural Elements, Trans Fun Ghoul, Trans Male Character, ghost au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:41:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21801583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spellingbee/pseuds/spellingbee
Summary: Battery City has fallen to ruins, taking Better Living Industries with it. With no one to rebel against any longer, the killjoys have disappeared into the past.Fifty years later, Party Poison and their crew stumble upon an old, abandoned diner.None of them expect to find a ghost inside.(currently on hiatus!)
Relationships: Fun Ghoul/Kobra Kid (Danger Days), Jet Star/Party Poison (Danger Days), Kobra Kid & Party Poison (Danger Days)
Comments: 136
Kudos: 126





	1. First Contact

**Author's Note:**

> Week 50!! Happy MCR Reunion Show Week!
> 
> as always, BIG thank you to my friend pink ([pinkstationhero](https://pinkstationhero.tumblr.com/) on tumblr) and my fiance ace ([funkobraofficial](https://funkobraofficial.tumblr.com/) on tumblr) for beta-reading this!! 
> 
> this au has been in the back of my mind for approximately seven months now, and it's been SO much fun to start writing it!! please enjoy
> 
> title is from lemon demon's soft fuzzy man!

"You sure about this place, Kobes?" Party asks, hands gripped tight around the steering wheel as they peer out the windshield at the building in front of them.

Beside them, they hear Kobra shift in his seat. "Look," he says, voice flat as ever, "Ghoul an' me, we've had our eye on this place for over a week now. No one's even _stopped_ here. This place is as empty as it can get. We either stop here or we spend the next who _knows_ how long in the car."

Party wrinkles their nose. The Trans Am's a good car--a _great_ car, an excellent find in all the rubble--but it wasn't exactly built for three grown-ass people to sleep in, especially when one of 'em's as tall and gangly as their brother is. They have to admit that it _would_ be nice to be able to stretch out their limbs tonight.

"Okay," Party says, loosening their grip on the steering wheel. "But we go in with our guns drawn, an' we don't put 'em away 'til we've checked _every inch_ of this place, got it?"

"Yeah, yeah, we're not _dumb,_ Party, we know how to scope out a building." Ghoul shoves his shoulder against the back door, popping it open and tumbling out into the sand. He rights himself and draws his bright green gun, motioning for the other two to get out of the car.

Party sighs, scrubbing their hand over their eyes and climbing out. They grab their own gun from its holster and keep it in a loose grip as they head for the front door.

The place Kobra's found is an ancient diner, probably abandoned around the time Battery City took over, if not before that. It's well-preserved, though; whatever it was built out of seems to have stood the test of time pretty well, and the glass looks like it might even be _intact_ in at least a couple windows.

The fact that a place like this--big and sturdy, providing plenty of protection from the weather--is apparently unclaimed just sets off alarm bells in Party's mind. Building materials are pretty scarce out here, and few people are brave enough to venture into the ruins of Battery City to collect anything usable, which means most people rely on the buildings already in existence out here in the desert. Most of those are small, or flimsy, or falling down around the occupants.

A prime location like this just makes Party worry. They wanna make sure their crew makes it to the next day alive.

Party pushes the front door open carefully, keeping their gun in a ready position, but they're met with only silence from inside the building.

Kobra pushes up against their side, peering inside. "Yup," he says. "Looks pretty empty to me."

He and Ghoul move past them and further into the building; Party bites back a warning, because really, the two of them _do_ know what they're doing. They step inside, themself, looking around and taking everything in.

The inside looks pretty torn up, with junk scattered over the floor and across all the furniture, stools and tables and bench seats ripped away from the walls and laying toppled over all around the room. There's a counter straight ahead from the doorway with a big hole smashed into its surface, light fixtures hanging by shredded wires from the ceiling, glass littering the scuffed wood floors.

It looks like no one's been here for years.

"Oh shit," comes Ghoul's voice from somewhere deeper in the diner, and Party lifts their gun up higher, fully ready to take on anyone or any _thing_ in this place. "There's an actual _toilet_ in here! And a _shower!_ Fuck, guys, this place looks like it's barely been scavenged at _all!_ "

Party lowers their gun slightly, but keeps it in the ready position. The fact that the bathroom's apparently still fully-furnished doesn't do anything to calm Party down. Whether or not the plumbing still works isn't really an issue. In the decades surrounding the rise and fall of Better Living Industries, the rebels and, later, the survivors, took what they could from _wherever_ they could find it, selling or trading everything they couldn't use themselves.

So why the hell is _this_ building still so intact? It's the find of a _lifetime,_ if there's nothing fucky going on.

"Oh shit," comes Kobra's voice from where Party assumes the bathroom is, "think the pipes are still good, too. Might actually be able to get this stuff to _work_ if we can rig it to work outta water barrels."

"Just be careful," Party calls, making their way across the debris strewn across the floor to head in their direction. "Keep an eye out for anythin' suspicious."

"Party, no one's been here for _ages,"_ Ghoul says, poking his head out a doorway up ahead. "This place's prob'ly been empty since the city shut down. There's nothin' to _worry_ about. C'mon, Kobes, let's check out these other rooms."

Party sighs, loud and exaggerated, as the other two hurry off down the dark hallway. They have to admit that Ghoul's right; this place is abandoned, and there's almost no chance of running into anyone. That does nothing to soothe their unease, but they try to push it down and focus on learning the layout of the diner, instead.

Since Kobra and Ghoul are checking out the bathroom and what's probably a couple of storage rooms off that way, Party heads to the back of the diner, moving past the busted countertop to check out the kitchen just barely visible through the door, standing ajar and crooked on its hinges.

They haven't seen a kitchen like this... well, _ever._ In pictures from old magazines, maybe, but nothing _real._

The kitchen is just as torn-up as the rest of the diner, but all the appliances are still here, three ovens, a giant mixer, a _coffee maker,_ things Party can't even _name._ The few working kitchens they've seen in their lifetime usually consisted of _maybe_ one oven--usually it was just a portable camp stove, honestly--and a couple of cooking utensils. But this is enough to feed a whole _town_ out of!

Even if most of it doesn't work, it's worth a fortune in parts alone.

Their worry is lifting now, replaced by excitement. They've been living out of their car for a couple years now, all three of them, travelling around the desert and doing odd jobs here and there, sleeping outside or in their car when they can't find a cheap motel, barely earning enough to keep themselves fed and watered and a charge in their batteries.

But if this place is really up for the taking, they can _settle down_ here, fix this place up, sell off what they don't need; it's big enough that if they can get the materials, they might be able to section off part of it and offer rooms to travelers. Fuck, they could stay _right here_ and make a fucking _life_ for themselves!

Party tries not to let themself hope too much, but they can't help but let their eyes get a little misty, wiping at them with the back of their hand.

This place could mark a major turning point in their life, a change for the _better._

They put their gun back in its holster and turn toward the doorway. "Hey, guys!" they call. "Come check it out!"

"Hang on, we're comin'!" Ghoul calls back, and they hear the sound of footsteps approaching. Damn, those two are gonna be excited as _hell_ to see this!

Something moves in the corner of Party's eye.

They spin toward it, heart leaping in their chest, but there's no one there. No _thing_ there. Their hand goes back to the gun at their hip, but they don't pull it out. _Probably just a rat,_ they tell themself. Even if there haven't been people in here for a while, animals are bound to have moved in.

Come to think of it, it's weird that _this_ would be the first rat they've seen. Place like this should be full of rats and lizards and bugs and who knows what else.

A place like this should be a lot of things it, apparently, isn't.

Footsteps behind them.

Party jumps, pulling their gun out and lifting it up, heart hammering, but it's just Kobra and Ghoul, staring at them from the doorway. 

"You okay, Party?" Kobra asks, eyeing the gun pointed in his direction, one eyebrow arched.

Party swallows and slips it back into their holster. "Sorry," they say, embarrassed. "Thought I saw somethin'."

"Well, I'm seein' a _lotta_ somethin's," Ghoul says, pushing farther into the room and looking around excitedly. "Holy _shit,_ this stuff's worth a _fortune!_ "

"Yeah!" Party forces their voice to match his in excitement levels. "That's what I called ya in to see. Think we could get one'a these ovens up an' runnin'? Sell off the others?"

"Prob'ly," Ghoul says, crouching down in front of one and pulling it open. The door opens with a loud _creeeeeak,_ and Kobra winces, rubbing a hand over one ear. Ghoul shoots an apologetic glance at him, then goes back to examining the oven. "Sorry, babe. Anyway, I'll hafta take a look when there's more light, but I'm _sure_ we could cobble together a workin' oven with pieces from all three."

He straightens up and turns back to Kobra. "Think we could all use some good sleep for now, though." 

"Yeah." Kobra's eyes light up, and he looks at Party again. "Party, c'mon, there's actual fuckin' _beds_ here, two of 'em. Mattresses _an'_ bedsprings!"

"Fuck, are you serious?!" Party's never actually _seen_ a bed with _both_ those things before. Usually it's one or the other set up on the floor, or--more often--just a pile of blankets to wrap up in. "Show me, man, show me!"

As the three exit the kitchen, Party feels a little tingle on the back of their neck, the hairs there standing up on end, but they carefully don't react.

 _I'm just paranoid,_ they think. _It's nothing._

\-----

There's three rooms in the hallway beyond the bathroom. One is filled with old metal shelves and boxes, broken and falling over. Kobra assures them that they'll examine the contents of that room tomorrow, when it's easier to see. 

The other two rooms are bedrooms, complete with frames, bedsprings, mattresses, blankets, _pillows-_ -honest to Destroya _pillows!-_ -as well as dressers, nightstands, and closets.

It's like something out of a damn _dream,_ and Party's about to start pinching themself to make sure they're _not_ dreaming.

Kobra and Ghoul take the larger of the bedrooms for themselves, and Party can't help the sense of _wonder_ they experience at the prospect of having _their own room._ They've always shared a room. When they were a kid, they lived with Kobra and their parents in a tiny one-room shack. The past few years, the whole crew's been sleeping in the car or sharing a single room together. Party almost can't _comprehend_ the idea of a _room of their own._

It's hard to see much in their room; the sun's nearly set, and though there's a lamp on the bedside table, there's no electricity to run it. Party picks their way across the floor, laying their hand on the bed.

The blanket is dusty, but seems fine, otherwise. They take it off and shake it, slapping it against the wall a couple of times, and then they lay down on the bed and spread the blanket over them. The mattress is soft, but not _too_ soft, and the pillows--well, the pillows are dusty. They quickly give them the same treatment as the blanket and settle back in. The pillows are the most luxurious thing Party's ever experienced, they're pretty sure.

It's quiet, alone in this room. It's a quiet Party's not sure they've ever really experienced, and they aren't sure what to make of it. They close their eyes and listen hard; they can just barely hear the low murmur of Kobra and Ghoul's voices, in the room across the hall. At least they'll finally have some time to themselves. 

Party keeps listening to the sound of their voices as they quickly drift off to sleep.

\-----

It can't be more than a few hours later that Party wakes up, bolting upright and not quite able to catch their breath. Something's wrong. Something's _wrong,_ something's _not right,_ but they have no idea what it _is!_

They're not used to this feeling, and somewhere in the back of their mind, they wonder if _this_ is what Kobra feels like when he has his panic attacks.

They look around frantically, trying to spot Kobra in the barely-there light, but they're alone. They're _alone._ Why are they alone?! Where's Kobra, where's _Ghoul,_ they're _never_ apart, not like _this,_ not at _night!_

Party's heart is pounding in their chest, beating out a rhythm so fast they're almost afraid it'll jump right out of their ribcage.

What the hell is _wrong_ with them?

They close their eyes, try to employ the same techniques they're always walking Kobra through. Inhale, one, two, three. Exhale, one, two, three. Inhale, exhale. 

After a few repetitions, they're feeling better, calmer. They have no idea why that happened; they don't remember having a nightmare or anything like that. Still, they're better now, and they think they'll be able to go back to sleep. 

They open their eyes and come face-to-face with a ghost.

They feel like their breath's been knocked out of them, a choked noise all that emerges from their throat. They fall back against the mattress and scramble back until they hit the wall behind them, all the while maintaining direct eye contact with a _fucking ghost!_

They know it's a ghost because it _looks_ like a person, if people glowed faintly purple and hovered ominously near the ceiling. The ghost looks _startled,_ somehow, but doesn't say anything, doesn't move closer or farther away. The ghost just keeps staring at them.

This has _gotta_ be a dream, right? Some paranoia-fueled nightmare caused by staying in this weird-ass diner. That's the only possible explanation, because _ghosts aren't real!_

The ghost just keeps staring at them.

Party clears their throat, willing their heart to stop pounding. "What," they begin, but the word gets stuck in their throat. "What are-- _who_ are you?!"

The ghost doesn't reply, but they see it--him? The ghost looks pretty masculine--twist around in midair to look back over his shoulder.

Party follows his gaze, but there's no one--and no _thing-_ -there. "Can you _hear_ me?" Party asks.

The ghost turns back toward them, his brow furrowing like he's _confused_ or some shit. 

"Yeah, _you,_ " Party says, pulling the blanket up tight under their chin. "The purple fucking _ghost_ in the room!"

The ghost looks startled again, eyes wide, his head pulling back and away from Party. "You...." The ghost's voice is deep, and has some sort of weird... _resonance,_ Party supposes is the word. "You can _see_ me?"

"Uh, _yeah."_ Party presses their back closer to the wall, cold from the desert night seeping in through their thin shirt. "Kinda hard to miss a _guy_ floating in my _bedroom."_

"You can see me." The ghost laughs, his head tipping back toward the ceiling, his arms coming up and wrapping around his gut. "You can _see_ me! You can _hear_ me! This is--this is _amazing!"_

"This is the weirdest dream I've ever had," Party says. Their hands tighten on the blanket.

The ghost's laughter peters out, and he floats closer to Party. Party's heart picks up the pace again, and they pull the blanket even tighter around them, like that would do _anything_ to help the situation! "I'm not a dream," he says. "At least, I _hope_ I'm not. If you're dreaming me, then I'm dreaming you, too. Which isn't very likely, considering I haven't _slept_ in... years? I don't know exactly how long it's been."

"Uh huh." Party gulps, holding the ghost's gaze only because they're afraid of what will happen if they look away. This is a dream. This is _definitely_ a dream! "Okay. Well. I need to go to sleep, so if you would, uh, pretty please go away and let me sleep, that would be _great,_ thanks."

"No!" The ghost's eyes are wild, and he reaches his ghastly hands toward Party. They shriek, slamming the back of their head into the wall behind them, and the ghost pulls his hands away. "No, I'm sorry, don't be scared, I just--I haven't talked to anyone in _so long,_ and no one's even come _around_ here in... in I don't _know_ how long, and I just--I'm not gonna hurt you, I just--here, I'll back off, I'm sorry."

The ghost moves backward as he talks, almost like he's being pulled away by some invisible cord, until he's back at the place he started from.

Party opens their mouth to speak, doesn't know what they're going to _say-_ -their heart feels like it's in their throat, their head is throbbing from where it struck the wood--when the bedroom door slams open, and Party can just see two figures in the doorway, Kobra and Ghoul. Relief floods their system, almost overwhelming in its intensity.

"Party," Kobra asks, a panicked edge to his voice, "what's wrong? What happened?"

"There's a--Kobes, there's a fuckin' _ghost_ in here!" 

"What? Party." Kobra crosses the threshold into the room, and he's almost _right beneath_ the ghost, but he doesn't even fucking _react_ to it. "Party, did you have a nightmare?"

"What? No. Kobes, it's- _-he's-_ -" They start to point up at the ghost, but suddenly he's just... not there anymore. No weird purple glow, no man hovering over them, he's just... _gone._

They blink, confusion washing over them. They hadn't _imagined_ that, had they? They _couldn't_ have. It was too _real,_ too... too _there_ to have been a dream. Right? 

But ghosts aren't real. Of _course_ it was a dream. 

Party lets out a sigh, letting their blanket drop down into their lap. "I guess I did," they murmur, reaching up to run their fingers through their hair. "Fuck, sorry Kobes. Didn't mean to wake ya."

"No, it's okay." The bed dips as Kobra sits on the edge, and Party can just make out Ghoul coming up to stand nearby. "D'you wanna talk about it? D'you need somethin'?"

"No, I--I'm okay. Just gotta get back to sleep, I think." They're almost _embarrassed_ now, and feeling guilty that they had to go and wake up their brother and his boyfriend during what they're _sure_ was their first good night's sleep in _weeks._

"If you're sure." Kobra reaches over and squeezes their fingers, the same thing Party does for him whenever _he_ has a nightmare. "You gonna be okay by yourself?"

Party's heart lurches at the thought, but they nod. "I'll be fine. Uh, good night, Kobes. Ghoul."

"Night, Party," Ghoul mumbles, and a moment later, the two of them are gone, the door shutting softly behind them.

Party rearranges themself on the bed, pulling the blanket up over their face and shutting their eyes tight. It was just a dream.

_Just a dream._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and there we have the first chapter!  
> have i ever mentioned how much i love worldbuilding? bc i ADORE worldbuilding. and fantasy/supernatural/scifi.
> 
> i don't know how long this fic is gonna be just yet, but i've got 3 chapters written and a good chunk of stuff plotted out. i hope you enjoyed the first chapter and will continue to enjoy future updates! please feel free to leave kudos or comments. i'd love to hear your thoughts!!
> 
> also, come visit me on tumblr! [enby-partypoison](https://enby-partypoison.tumblr.com/)


	2. Second Visitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one else can see the ghost.  
> Is Party going crazy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Week 52! That's an ENTIRE YEAR! We did it, kids!!! 🎉🎉🎉
> 
> HUGE thank you as always to my friend [pink](https://pinkstationhero.tumblr.com/) and my fiance [ace](https://funkobraofficial.tumblr.com/) for beta-reading this for me!! you're the best!! 💖💖💖
> 
> please enjoy some more Ghost Antics™

Party wakes up with the morning sun streaming through their window, and now they know for _certain_ that last night's events were a dream. They have to laugh at themself, honestly; to think that they'd seen a fucking _ghost._ Ha! They've been spending too much time with Fun Ghoul and his damn supernatural obsession.

They take the opportunity to look around their new bedroom in the blue-tinted early-morning light. It doesn't look nearly as torn up as the rest of the diner, but signs of disuse are definitely there. 

The whole room is coated in a layer of dust; even the blanket and pillows Party had smacked the hell out of last night are still dusty, stained brown with years of dirt. 

Still, even with all the dust, it's a nice room. The nicest Party's ever seen, definitely; the bed is built up off the floor, and goddamn _amazing_ to lay on--seriously, Party's contemplating just staying in bed all day, it's _that_ comfortable--and there's actual fucking _carpet_ on the floor. Party hasn't seen a _carpet_ in _years,_ not since it was just Kobra and Party and they stayed at that fancy old motel on the other side of the desert. Carpet's hard as _fuck_ to keep clean out here, and most of it that's survived the years has been torn up and used to repair other things, like furniture.

Party wonders how much they could get for this carpet. The room's maybe nine by eight feet, and the carpet's fucking _wall to wall._ Damn. They've seriously stumbled upon a _gold mine_ here. Party's gonna have to remember to apologize to Kobra later for trying to talk him out of coming in here.

Party eyes the closet taking up most of one wall. It's a sliding door, and the door looks like it's crooked or off-track. They've slept in a couple of closets like this before, in places that had them; a closet floor's cheaper than a full room, after all. 

Their curiosity gets the best of them, and they slip out of bed and move over to the door, taking hold of it with both hands and wiggling it until they hear it _click_ back into place. They grin to themself and slide the door to the right, and then they freeze.

 _The closet's fucking_ filled _with clothes!_

Party has to remind themself to breathe as they take it all in. This is probably more clothes than they've _ever_ seen in one place, rivaled only by that one travelling clothing shop they'd bought Kobra's current jacket at last year. This is probably more clothes than all three of them have _owned_ in their whole lives!

This old diner really _is_ the find of a lifetime. 

They reach into the closet and pull out the first article of clothing they touch, holding it at arm's length to see it better.

It's an old denim jacket, black, or maybe a dark brown; it's tough to tell with how dusty it is, and in this scant light. They flip it around to look at the back and find an old design. It takes them a moment to recognize it as the American flag, flipped on its side so the stripes lay vertically rather than horizontally. The thing that really catches their attention, though, is the black spider painted over the stripes.

They can't help but feel awe at the sight. It's the symbol of the Killjoys, the infamous rebels who fought against Better Living so many years ago.

This jacket must have belonged to one of them, then. Which means this whole _building_ must have been a rebel base at some point!

They run their fingers over the painting, wonder who it could have belonged to, what happened to them. They must be dead by now; that or they're _very_ old. Party wonders if they could find out anything more about this mysterious killjoy, maybe learn their name, their _story._

They carefully hang the jacket back up in the closet, and they're just reaching for another article of clothing when the bedroom door opens, and Ghoul calls, "Hey, Party! Was wonderin' when you were gonna wake up. Kobes wants us to work on the kitchen when yer ready. There's food an' stuff."

Party turns toward him. "Is your closet as fuckin' _stuffed_ as mine?!" they ask.

Ghoul pushes the door open more and steps inside, peering around Party. "Oh, yeah," he says. "Tons'a stuff in there. Dunno how many people lived here before shit went down or whatever, but this whole place is _packed._ " He turns his gaze to Party themself, frowning. "You feelin' okay?"

"Yeah." Party clenches their fist at their side, sends a smile to Ghoul. "Sorry 'bout last night, that was just fuckin' weird, huh?" They laugh, hoping it doesn't sound too forced.

If Ghoul notices anything strange, he doesn't say it. "Yeah. I mean, it's not _that_ weird, we all have nightmares an' shit. Too bad there wasn't a _real_ ghost, though." He sighs. "Oh, well. There's still time." He turns then, and leaves the room.

"Uh, yeah, that's not exactly gonna help me get more _comfortable_ in this freaky-ass building, thanks!" Party calls, hurrying after him without bothering to close the closet door.

A chill sweeps over them as they pass through the doorway, making them shiver, but they just brush it off; it's probably just the cold of the early-morning desert. Nothing more, nothing less.

\-----

"Well, this one's busted," Ghoul says, flicking a little metal... thing... out of the oven. It strikes the old linoleum of the floor and rolls off somewhere, disappearing into one of the piles of junk. "Most of the parts look like they're still pretty good, though. How's that one, Kobes?"

"Think it just needs a couple pieces replaced," Kobra calls, sliding his shoulders out of the second oven and sitting up. "Needs a new coil, but if the one you're in's got one intact it should be good." He gets to his feet, brushing decades-old dirt off of himself. "Wonder if there's a generator around here somewhere, or if we'll have to trade some stuff off to get one."

Party, who doesn't know shit about ovens or generators or machinery in general, shrugs. "Got enough stuff here that we don't hafta worry 'bout it either way." They lean down and pick out a wad of cloth from one of the junk piles. They think it might have been a dish towel at some point, but now it's just a dirty, moldy piece of garbage. They toss it into a soggy cardboard box they'd unearthed earlier. Well, they might be able to find _some_ use for it, if they can get it cleaned up enough. 

"There's so much we gotta _do,"_ Ghoul says, and Party can see the way his eyes light up at the thought. Spending so much of their time travelling and focusing on basic survival hasn't been very good for _any_ of them. It'll definitely be nice to have something to do.

Party squats back down to the floor, sifting through all the debris and sorting it by how immediately useful everything is. Metal bits, wood chips, cloth and paper, and old food are mostly what they've found so far; the boxed food is all from 2019 or earlier, far too old to even _contemplate_ eating, but the stained white cardboard with the Better Living Industries logo is fascinating. They've only ever seen that logo on more permanent things no one's bothered to paint over, like old metal signs and plastic things, never on something temporary like paper and cardboard. 

They're tempted to open up a can of what they think are tomatoes, but the metal can is bloated, the top and bottom straining against the contents, and they don't know what that _means,_ exactly, but they know it probably means it's not a good idea.

"Don't really wanna get rid'a any'a the oven parts 'til we make sure we don't need anything," Kobra's saying. "Actually, don't think we should get rid'a _any_ mechanical stuff 'til we know what works an' what doesn't." He sighs. "Can't get a workin' generator an' food without somethin' to trade, though."

"What about all those clothes in the closets?" Party asks, tossing a bunch of wrinkled papers into a box. "We definitely don't need that much, even if it all fits us. People'll pay a _ton_ for good clothes, an' even if most of it's gotta get turned into scrap, there's a market for that!"

"Guess that works," Kobra says with a shrug. "You know more about that kinda thing. Wanna see about gettin' that sorted while me an' Ghoul work in here?"

"Sure." Party straightens up, stretching. They wanna dig through the clothes more anyway; it'll be good to be productive while they do it. "I'll just--" they stop, then. They're cold suddenly, despite the growing heat of the day, and they rub at their arm. Why the hell are they so _cold?_

"...Somethin' wrong, Party?" Ghoul asks, and Party glances over to see him staring at them, brow furrowed.

"No," they say, too quickly. "Just, uh. Cold, I guess." They rub their neck.

"Cold?" Kobra frowns. "Party, you were _sweatin'_ just a minute ago."

"I know." Party turns away, heading for the door. "I just need my jacket or somethin', it's fi--" they cut themself off as their eyes land on something just above the doorframe, something purple, glowing. 

It's the fucking _ghost_ again.

Their mouth feels dry, their palms feel sweaty, but they're still so _cold._ The ghost isn't _real!_ It was just a nightmare!

"Oh, thank the Witch," the ghost says. "You can still see me!"

"No I can't!" Party exclaims, taking a quick step back and nearly tripping over something. 

"Party?" Kobra's voice, right beside their ear. Kobra's hand on their arm, keeping them steady. "What's _wrong?_ "

Kobra! Thank fuck, he'll see the ghost and then Party can figure all this out! "The ghost!" they shriek. "The ghost is back, holy shit, he's right _there,_ can't you _see_ him?"

Kobra follows Party's gesture, but instead of the type of reaction they'd expect, Party just sees his eyes searching, skimming right past him, and Party's heart sinks. He can't see him, can't see the ghost glowing up there by the ceiling. 

Party's officially gone crazy.

"They can't see me," the ghost says, floating down closer to Party. "It's just you, you're the only one who can see me, I'm sorry, but please-- _please,_ I need to talk to you!"

"There's nothin' there, Party," Kobra says, but then he shivers, hand tightening on Party's arm. "It _is_ cold, though. Party, I think you should lay down. Maybe you're gettin' sick."

"No!" Party says. "No, there's a--there's a ghost, okay, you just--you can't _see_ him!"

"Party," Kobra tries again, and there's a worried edge to his tone, and normally Party would stop and try to reassure him, but this is _different._ There's a _fucking ghost_ right in front of him!

 _Is_ Party going crazy?

"Kobra, shut the _fuck_ up, okay, there's a _ghost!_ Will you just--will you just _look_ at him?!"

"Party, there's _nothing there!"_

"Why can't you _see him?!"_ Party's panicking now, their heart pounding. What is _happening_ to them?

"Hang on, hang _on,_ " Ghoul says, stepping up and squeezing in between them, forcing Kobra to release Party's arm. "What the _fuck?_ Why are you guys _fightin'_ about this?!"

"I'm sorry," the ghost says again, and this time his voice sounds farther away, somehow. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make you fight, I--I'll go." He blinks out of existence, there one instant, gone the next, leaving no trace.

"Maybe Party's got a sixth sense kinda deal goin' on," Ghoul's saying. "We can't just discount a _whole entire_ eyewitness account just 'cause _we_ don't see it, Kobes!" He turns to Party, a manic glint in his eye. "Party, where's the ghost?! Right in front of us, right? Okay, so, like, ask 'im a question! Ask 'im, uh, ask 'im--"

"He's gone," Party says, stepping away from them both and turning to face them. "He--the ghost's gone. He's not here now."

Ghoul visibly deflates. "Aw. Fuck, lost our chance...."

"If there even _was_ a ghost," Kobra says, and he's still watching Party, his lips pursed.

"He was _here,"_ Party insists, but they're not sure they believe it themself. Without proof, it's hard to believe it _was_ real.

"Look, Kobes, it warmed up again after the ghost left," Ghoul insists, poking Kobra in the arm.

Kobra shrugs. "There's prob'ly a draft or somethin'."

Party's heart sinks. That _does_ make more sense than a ghost. Fuck.

"Look," Kobra says, reaching out to take Party's wrist in his hand. "I'm not sayin' there's _not_ a ghost. I'm just sayin'... that I'm worried about you. Why don't you go lay down for a while, okay? I'll bring ya some water in a bit."

Party bites their lip, considering. Maybe the ghost _is_ just some kinda... hallucination or whatever. Maybe rest _is_ what they need. Can't hurt to try, right? They sigh, rubbing their free hand across their eyes. "Okay, yeah. I'll try. Sorry, Kobes."

"It's fine." Kobra gives their wrist a tight, comforting squeeze and then drops it. "Just... yeah. Me an' Ghoul'll handle this. Take care'a yourself, Party."

"Yeah." Party turns and leaves the kitchen, picking their way back to their room. "Yeah, okay...."

They'd rather sleep a few more hours than deal with a fucking _ghost,_ anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poor party :/ this is a lot to deal with!! 😔
> 
> this is the last thing i'm posting until february! i'll be picking up a new as-yet-undecided posting schedule for 2020, because unfortunately the weekly updating didn't leave me a lot of room to work on any other hobbies; though it DID help me improve a lot as a writer this year!!  
> thank you everyone for supporting me during this very busy year!! you're all fantastic!!! ✨💖✨
> 
> follow me on tumblr if you wanna check out what i'm working on and maybe give some input on new projects/posting schedules!! [enby-partypoison](https://enby-partypoison.tumblr.com/) 😄


	3. Third Time's the Charm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Party has a conversation with the ghost.  
> Kobra's gonna need a little more convincing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya hiya! Welcome to the first once you go hazy update of 2020!  
> once you go hazy, you'll understand will be updated once a month until completion, the third week of each month.
> 
> BIG thank you as always to my friend [Pink](https://hyperthrust.tumblr.com/) and my fiance [Ace](https://funkobraofficial.tumblr.com/) for beta-reading this! You two are such HUGE helps!! ✨💖✨💖✨
> 
> Please enjoy this chapter! 😘

Despite their attempt, Party actually can't go back to sleep, so they end up just laying on top of their covers, sweating in the increasing heat of the day. 

They keep their eyes closed, terrified that they'll open them to find a ghost hovering over them again. Almost more terrified that they'll never see the ghost again, that there never  _ was _ a ghost. 

They can't let their distrust of this place get the better of them. And they  _ really _ can't keep worrying Kobra over this. Kobra's got enough to worry about without adding his sibling's mental health on top of that.

Destroya, it's so fucking  _ hot _ in here. They need to get some reflective curtains in here. Maybe there's even a way they could get a  _ working fan _ in here! Even if the fan doesn't do anything but move the air around, hot  _ moving _ air is better than hot  _ stagnant _ air.

They're getting really sick of laying here. It's too  _ hot, _ there's nothing to  _ focus on _ except for the fucking ghost that definitely isn't real, and there's  _ no  _ way at this point that they're gonna be getting any sleep.

With a sigh, they sit up, carefully keeping their eyes shut. They swing their legs over the side of the bed and stand, only opening their eyes to look down at their feet and make sure they don't trip on anything as they make their way over to the closet again.

There's much more light now than there was earlier, and so when they open the closet, they can easily see the variety of colors and styles of clothes, even as dust-coated as they are.

Clothes. Now,  _ clothes _ Party understands.

They reach in and pull several hangers off the rack, carrying them over to and dumping them on the bed. They're gonna make five piles: one each for Kobra, Ghoul, and themself, one for scrap fabric, and one for things to sell or trade as-is. They've always had a knack for this kind of thing.

A pink, frilly dress. Too small to fit anyone but Ghoul, and it's  _ definitely _ not his style. It's in decent shape, though, and Party's pretty sure that  _ someone  _ out here will make a good offer for a party outfit like this. Into the trade pile it goes.

An old, worn T-shirt. Party's tempted to just toss it in the scrap pile and be done with it, but the material's pretty soft. It's just the type of thing Ghoul likes, so even though it's at least a couple sizes too big for him, they stick it in his pile.

And so it goes, Party sorting through clothes on the bed until they run out, then reaching back into the closet for more. Once again, they're astounded by the sheer  _ variety _ of styles and sizes here. This  _ must _ have been an entire killjoy crew's stockpile. But why's it been sitting here, rotting away for so long? Why had no one gotten to it before Kobra and Ghoul found this place?

They sigh to themself, picking up the next article of clothing.  _ Oh. _ It's that denim jacket they'd found earlier, the one with the old flag and spider on the back. 

They look at it again in the late-morning light; it's definitely black, not brown, and there's a couple of patches on the jacket they hadn't noticed earlier: a red-and-black patch on the front, a symbol or logo for something Party doesn't recognize. A yellow patch on the sleeve, made to look like a playing card, with a skull and scythe in the center. Closer examination reveals severed threads and telltale holes in several places, where other patches must have been at one time or another.

They hold the jacket out in front of them, contemplating what to do with it. On the one hand, jackets like this are always useful, and even if it's a little big for any of the three of them, it'd be a shame to give it up. Still, it'd definitely fetch a pretty penny.... But also, this is a  _ genuine _ killjoy  _ relic, _ and Party's sort of... well, they don't really want to give it up, if they're honest.

"That's my old jacket," comes a voice over Party's shoulder, and they spin around, biting back a yelp.

The ghost is behind them, hovering up near the ceiling like the first time they'd seen him. In the daylight, he looks less ghastly; the purple glow that had been so noticeable in the dark is now barely visible, and he almost looks... like a  _ person. _

"You're not a goddamn figment of my imagination caused by stress or raging paranoia or whatever, are you?" they ask, heart pounding in their chest.

The ghost shakes his head, drifting closer. The air grows cooler the closer he gets to them. "I'm afraid not," he says, smiling hesitantly at them. "I'm real. Or at least, I'm pretty sure I'm real. If I'm not, then I'm such a good fake I even fool myself."

Party stares at him, not sure what to say. What to  _ do. _ They're fairly certain they're not creative enough to come up with something like  _ this. _ It feels too real. But for some reason, Kobra and Ghoul can't see him. Or  _ hear _ him. This is... this is too much.

They sit down on the bed. They kinda wanna bury their face in their hands and just let everything fade away for a while, but they know that's not gonna happen. Instead, they just keep staring at the ghost.

"Who  _ are _ you?" they ask, so abruptly they almost startle themself. "I mean--you are-- _ were-- _ a killjoy, right? If that jacket was yours."

"Oh, sorry. I didn't introduce myself. I'm Jet Star." The ghost smiles again, wider now. "Yeah, I was a killjoy. Before I died. Are  _ you _ a killjoy? What's  _ your _ name?" He looks them over, and Party fights the urge to tug at their shirt and make themself look presentable. 

"Party Poison," they say, and then shake their head. "There aren't any killjoys anymore," they say.

The ghost-- _ Jet Star- _ -finches back. "There-- _ what? _ How can there--? Did BL/ind  _ win? _ " His eyes are wide, and he clutches his hands at his sides, bites his lip. "But you--no. You're wearing  _ color. _ You can't be BL/ind."

"No, uh, Better Livin' fell when the city did," Party says. How disconnected  _ is _ this guy? Ghost? "'S just, no one calls themselves killjoys now. There's no point, ya know? Nothin' to rebel against anymore."

The ghost falls silent for a long moment, and Party can see the confusion written on his face, sees it in the way his eyebrows knit together, the way his lips purse. "The city... the city  _ fell?" _ Jet Star shakes his head, long, curly hair fluttering weightlessly around him. "That doesn't... what do you  _ mean, _ the city fell?"

Party shrugs. "I dunno all the details, I wasn't there. It was, like, fifty years ago. Guess some killjoys went in for somethin', an' the whole thing just...  _ exploded? _ Imploded? I dunno. You can see the ruins if ya get close enough, but ya can't get  _ too _ close. Shit's  _ dangerous." _

Jet Star shakes his head again, floating up closer to the ceiling. "It... Has it really been  _ fifty years?" _ he asks. "I... I didn't realize it had been... I thought it was only a few years, maybe, but I..." He flickers, then, his whole body going see-through, and then blinking out of existence.

Party stares at the spot where he was. What the hell had happened? Are they crazy after all? "Uh... Jet Star?" they call tentatively.

"Yeah?" comes Jet Star's voice, from the empty space up by the ceiling. The glow comes back first, faint purple, and then Jet Star winks back into existence. 

"Did you do that on purpose?" they ask,

"Do what?"

"Like, fuckin'... disappeaar?"

Jet star looks at his hands, stretching them out in front of him. "Uh. No?" He looks perplexed.

Party shakes their head. "Look, I can't do this. I dunno  _ shit _ about ghosts, Ghoul's the expert on everythin' freaky."

Jet Star looks put out, visibly wilting. "Oh. I'm sorry, I--I'll try not to disappear again, just  _ please _ don't stop talking to me!" 

Party blinks, looking him over. What must it be like, they wonder, to be trapped-- _ is _ he trapped?--in an old diner for half a goddamn century, and then to have the first person you've talked to in all that time try and  _ turn you away? _ Party would  _ hate _ that. They'd hate it even more if it happened to their brother, or to Ghoul. They sigh, and shake their head. "I'm not sayin' I'm gonna stop  _ talkin' _ to you," they say. "I'm just sayin', we gotta convince Ghoul an' my brother that you're  _ real _ so they stop tryin' to put me to bed early an' shit."

"Oh." Jet Star perks up, smiling sheepishly at them. They tilt their head, taking him in now that they can see him in the daylight, without so much of the purple glow obscuring all his features: a big cloud of dark hair, shoulder-length and wild; his skin has a purple cast to it, and they can't make out the exact shade it would have been when he was alive, but it's darker than their own. Dark eyes, thick eyebrows. There's stubble along his jaw.

He looks like he was fairly big in life, too. They can't tell how tall he is, of course, with him hovering near the ceiling like he is, but he's got broad shoulders, thick limbs, big hands. His clothes are plain, just a T-shirt and jeans, boots. They all have a purple cast to them, too, but Party's pretty sure that's the ghastly glow, not the actual color.

They shake their head to bring their attention back to the task at hand. "Anyway," they say, "let's see if we can't getcha introduced, huh?"

\-----

_ "Told _ ya there was a ghost!" Ghoul gloats, poking Kobra in the side.

Kobra grabs Ghoul's hand before he can poke him again, interlacing their fingers. "Still don't think there's a ghost," he says. "But whatever."

Party rolls their eyes at him. "Look, I'm  _ not _ crazy, okay? There's a ghost, his name's Jet Star, and he's hoverin' like,  _ right _ over your shoulder."

Jet Star waves. "Hi," he says, sounding hopeful, but no one but Party seems able to hear him.

Ghoul looks around. "Where?" he asks excitedly. "Where is he?! How come I can't see 'im?" 

Party shrugs helplessly. "Neither of us have any idea. 'Parently I'm the first person to see 'im since 'e died."

Kobra shoots them a skeptical look. "Okay," he says. "If there's actually a ghost, ask 'im... ask 'im..." Kobra puts his free hand behind his back. "Ask 'im how many fingers I'm holdin' up."

Party looks at Jet Star, who moves behind Kobra. Kobra shivers. "Three fingers," Jet Star tells them.

"Three," Party says, and Kobra shrugs, flexing his shoulders. "How 'bout now?"

"He's makin' a fist," Jet Star says.

"None," Party says, shifting from foot to foot and folding their arms over their chest.

Kobra's expression grows just slightly worried, his eyebrows pulling together just a little. "Okay," he says. "And now?"

Jet Star snorts. "One finger. The middle finger."

Party rolls their eyes. "Kobes, why the hell would you flip off a  _ ghost? _ Thought I raised you better'n that."

Kobra stiffens, his eyes widening just the slightest, and beside him, Ghoul cackles, spinning to face Jet Star. Well, Jet Star's approximate space. "Holy shit!" he says. "Party, I can't believe you met a fuckin'  _ ghost! _ Hi, ghost! His name's Jet Star, right? Hey, Jet Star! I'm Fun Ghoul. You're a fuckin'  _ ghost!" _

Jet Star shifts so he's facing Ghoul. His smile takes up practically his whole face. It's cute, actually. "Hi, Fun Ghoul," he says, and it sounds more  _ forceful _ than usual. There's more of that weird resonance in his voice, too. "Nice to meet you."

Ghoul doesn't react, so clearly he can't suddenly magically hear Jet Star. Party passes on the message, then says to Jet Star, "You can call him Ghoul, by the way. The only people who call 'im by his whole name are, like. Assholes." 

"How do you know I'm  _ not _ an asshole?" Jet Star asks, at the same time that Ghoul says, "But like does he  _ deserve _ to call me that?"

"Oh, shut up," Party says to both of them, and then addresses Jet Star again. "Anyway, he's Ghoul. I'm Party. That's my li'l brother Kobra there, with the big scared eyes."

"Shut the fuck up," Kobra says. "I'm not  _ scared. _ "

"Oh yes you  _ are. _ You didn't believe  _ me, _ you didn't believe your  _ boyfriend, _ an' now there's a ghost starin' you right in the face an' you're scared as fuck."

Jet Star chuckles a little, moving toward Party. "Sorry," he says. "I don't mean to be scary. I just, well. I can't really help it. You can call me Jet, by the way."

"Jet." Party grins at him.

"Man, that's weird as shit," Ghoul says. "Like you're starin' at nothin', but your eyes are  _ focused. _ " He scoots around to Party's side, squinting into the spot where Jet's hovering. "I can't see 'im at  _ all. _ Not even, like, a ripple in the air or whatever! Hey, Jet! D'you control the cold, or is it just, like, somethin' that  _ happens _ around you?"

"Uh," says Jet, watching Ghoul with an amused expression. "What cold thing? Do I make things cold?"

"Yeah, it's like,  _ super _ chilly around you," Party tells him, and turns to Ghoul. "He didn't even know he was doin' it, so I  _ doubt _ it's on purpose."

"Huh," says Ghoul, nodding his head with a considering look. "Wonder if that's somethin' you  _ could _ control if you thought about it hard enough... I don't know a ton 'bout ghosts, 'cept what me an' Kobes read in a couple books, so I guess we'll have to figure out a lotta this together!" He beams.

Jet chuckles again. "Guess so," he says easily, and grins at Party. Then his eyes focus on something behind them, and he looks around the room. "Damn," he says sadly. "Didn't realize the ol' diner had gotten so bad... Guess that's what fifty years'll do." He shakes his head.

Party glances over at Kobra, who's blinking at the air in front of him, clearly trying to see Jet without drawing attention to the fact that he's trying to do so. "Uh," Party says, turning back to Jet. "Uh, you don't mind that we're stayin' here, right?" they ask. "Like, if we live here an' sell some'a the stuff an' use some'a it? That's not, like... a  _ problem, _ right?"

Jet locks his gaze with theirs and blinks. "What? Oh." He shakes his head again. "No, 'course not! It'll be nice to talk to someone again. An' a building like this should  _ always _ have someone in it. I mean, it was a killjoy base. It should be--well." He bites his lip. "Well, if there aren't any  _ killjoys _ anymore, it can't be a killjoy base, exactly, but it should... have someone  _ livin' _ in it. Someone takin' care'a it." He looks around the room again, the corners of his mouth drooping. "Wish there was somethin' I coulda done to keep it from ending up like this, but..." He looks down at his hands, which have started going sort of see-through again.

"We'll take care of it," Party says quickly, snapping Jet's attention back to them. His hands go back to their more solid appearance again. "We'll get it lookin' all nice again. Promise."

Jet Star smiles at them then, a blinding smile, and Party's heart flips in their chest. "Thank you," he says. 

And Party can only nod.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jet's not such a scary ghost, is he? 💜👻💜
> 
> Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this chapter, please feel free to leave kudos or a comment below! I'd love to know your thoughts! ❤
> 
> You can find me on tumblr [@enby-partypoison](https://enby-partypoison.tumblr.com/)!


	4. Ghost Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jet has a lot of questions about life in the desert.  
> Party has some questions about life after death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BIG thank you as always to my friend Pink (hyperthrust on tumblr) and my fiance Ace (funkobraofficial on tumblr) for beta-reading this!! 😊💖
> 
> Please enjoy the chapter!!

Having a ghost hanging around you all the time takes some getting used to, Party finds, but it's really not all that different from having anyone else hanging around you, honestly. It's probably harder for everyone else than it is for Party; since Kobra and Ghoul can't see or hear Jet, they always get a little startled when Party starts talking to what they perceive as _nothing._ And Jet still seems to be coming to terms with the fact that he's been dead for over half a century. Most of his conversation with Party has been them catching him up on how much the world's changed.

"Where do you get your supplies and things if BL/ind's gone?" he asks, hovering over Party as they gather up materials to fix dinner for their crew. There's still no electricity in the diner, so Party's gonna cook something up over the old camp stove they brought with them.

"We make 'em," Party says, trying to decide between two different pots they've found in one of the kitchen cupboards. "Or repurpose old stuff we find."

"Wow," Jet says. "I mean, we did the same thing, of course, but we still had BL/ind products to fall back on when we needed 'em. I mean... what do you _eat?_ There's not exactly a lot that grows out here!"

Party raises an eyebrow at him. "There's plenty'a food," they say. "Beans, prickly pear, jackrabbit, mesquite. You tellin' me the _killjoys-_ -the goddamn _killjoys!-_ -only ate stuff that _Better Livin'_ made?" The idea seems ridiculous to Party. Sure, they'll _use_ stuff Better Living made--they _have_ to, they can't afford to waste anything--but they can't believe the rebels would ignore the wealth of foodstuffs available here and just eat the stuff their _enemies_ made.

Jet blinks, his eyes widening. He moves closer to Party, hovering at just above Party's eye level. "We had that stuff," he says, "but it was so hard to find. Expensive. And pretty much the only animals we ate were lizards. Rats, sometimes, if they snuck in with supplies from the city."

Party shakes their head, carrying their chosen pot over to the counter, where they've already set up their ingredients. "This stuff's easy as _fuck_ to get," they say. "So long as you've got some dirt an' water, you can grow food. Plenty'a farmers who sell it for cheap, or even _give_ it away! Hard to run outta food, so long as you go to the market when you run low."

"Huh." Jet sounds a little distracted, probably trying to process the differences. Party can't blame him. "What do you do for carbons, then?" he asks.

Party tilts their head in his direction. "Carbons?" They set the pot down and move to another cupboard for water. "Carbon like the smoke gas-cars let out?"

"What? No, carbons like the stuff you use to pay for things." Jet keeps floating along beside Party, which is only a little weird until he does something like pass through things without flinching, which makes it _really_ weird. Party's starting to get used to it, though.

They shrug. "We just call it money," they say. "We mostly just do trading, though. Plenty'a people won't even _take_ money, 'cept for those that've got actual _shops_ an' stuff." They grab the scratched-up water bottle from the bottom cupboard and open up a drawer to decide which spoon to use.

"Huh," Jet says again. "We almost always paid for things with carbons. The only people who did trades were makers, or mechanics who needed parts." He moves closer to the drawer, peering in as Party shuffles things around. "Use that one," he says, pointing to a long wooden spoon. "That one was my favorite."

Party takes it, shutting the drawer with a bump of their hip. "You cooked?"

Jet nods, his hair floating weightlessly around his head as he follows them back to the countertop. "Was trainin' to be a chef  before I left the city," he says proudly. "Made food for my crew every day. Harder to cook with what little we had access to, but we always managed."

Party hums in response. "We take turns cookin'," they say. "None of us are really _great_ at it--Ghoul's the best outta the three of us, but that's not really sayin' much--but everything we make is edible, so there's that."

"If I wasn't a ghost, I'd make you a _huge_ meal," he says. "Breads and stews and whatever else you've got ingredients for."

Party rolls their eyes, though they don't mean it in a dismissive way. "Well, you _are_ a ghost," they say. "So I think I'll handle it." They set the spoon and water down, then pick up a knife to start cutting up ingredients. They glance at Jet over their shoulder. "What was the city like?" they ask. "Before it fell?"

Jet gets a faraway look in his eyes, and he floats away a bit, closer to the ceiling. "...Lifeless," he says after a moment, voice quiet. "Sterile. Suffocating. It... I left as soon as I figured out how." He shakes his head, eyes focusing on Party again. "Be glad you were born out here. Where you never had to live like that..."

Party tilts their head to the side, studying him for a moment. The topic seems to have really affected Jet; earlier, his expression had been excited. Now, he looks sad. Smaller, too, and _dimmer._ More see-through, though still solid enough to almost pass for a regular person.

They shift, turning their attention back to the task at hand. "Sounds pretty shitty," they say. "Lucky it's gone, huh? Anyway, you wanna watch what I do? If you know the ingredients, you can chime in. Maybe we can make somethin' real good for the others, huh?"

"Oh, sure!" Jet brightens up at that, moving closer to peer over their shoulder. Party focuses on cutting up the jerky in front of them, but it's tough to ignore the waves of cold coming off of him. It feels nice after such a hot day, and they find themself leaning closer to him.

Dinner turns out to be the best they've had in ages.

\-----

"Sorry for telling you Jet wasn't real," Kobra says that night, as everyone's getting ready for bed. "I just thought--y'know, stress, nerves, all that shit--"

"Kobes, it's _fine,"_ Party says, reaching out and placing a hand on Kobra's shoulder. They squeeze, smiling at him. "If you'd said _you_ were seein' a ghost no one else could see, I'da thought you were goin' a little crazy, too. Hell, if _Ghoul_ said he saw a ghost I'da just shoved his head in the sand. It's all good, li'l bro."

"Yeah, but..." Kobra shakes his head. "Never mind. Guess you're right." He tilts his head back, glances around the dining room.

"He's not here," Party tells him, guessing he's looking for Jet. "Least, he's not _visible._ Dunno where he went." They raise their voice. "Hey, Jet? You 'round here?"

They're met with only silence. They shrug at Kobra, dropping their hand from his shoulder.

"Where does he go?" Kobra asks, the corners of his lips tilted ever so slightly downward.

They shrug again. "Dunno. I'm not even sure if _he_ knows."

Kobra raises an eyebrow at them. They raise both of theirs in return.

"Whatever," he says, turning to head down the hall. "We gotta see if we can find a market nearby, soon. Got lots to trade, an' lots to get."

Party grins. Markets are pretty great when you've got a lot to trade, and between the machinery parts Kobra and Ghoul have been putting aside and the clothes and other fabrics Party's sorted, they're practically _rich._

It's an interesting feeling. The best they've ever done so far is finding the Trans Am buried in a bunch of scrap metal, and while the car's kept them alive and travelling, it hasn't really provided _trading_ material.

As they make their way down the hall to the bedroom they've claimed as their own, they wonder if maybe Jet would want to go to the market with them. He'd probably be able to get a better look at how things have changed when he can actually _see_ people and places, right? 

But then, Party wonders if Jet even _can_ leave. They don't know a ton about ghosts, but they're pretty sure there was something about ghosts sticking around the places they died.

A shiver makes its way up Party's spine.

Had Jet Star _died_ here?

They shake their head at themself as they open the door. They're _definitely_ not going to ask Jet for all the gruesome details of his untimely demise. It's one thing to hear the story of a killjoy who died doing what they believed in, and another entirely to hear about how a _guy you're physically talking to_ died. It's weird.

And, actually, now that they think about it... hearing about how other killjoys died, years before they were born, doesn't really have the same excitement it once did. How many of those people had Jet Star _known?_ When did he die? When was he _alive?_

Curiosity wells up inside them, but they're afraid to ask. They don't want to know how Jet would answer them.

"Oh, hey Party!"

Party jumps, biting back a yelp, and their eyes flick over to the glowing purple man in the corner of the room. Speak of the devil. They put a hand on their chest, willing themself to breathe steadily.

"Oh, sorry," Jet says, floating closer. "Didn't mean to scare you."

"Nah, it's fine." Party waves their hand dismissively as their heart finally calms down. "Just wasn't expectin' to see you in here. Thought you'd gone off to..." they wave both hands this time, fluttering their fingers as they move their arms in wide arcs. "...Ghost town, or whatever, I guess."

Jet snorts, a slow, wide grin stretching over his face. Party's heart beats faster again. "'Ghost town?'" he asks. "There's no ghost town. At least, I don't _think_ there's a ghost town. I've never been there if there is."

Party tilts their head. Well, _that_ doesn't bode well for the afterlife. They try not to dwell on it for now. "Where d'you go, then," they ask, "when you're not _here?"_

He shrugs. "Nowhere, I guess."

"You must go _somewhere,"_ Party says, stepping around him to get to the bed. "If you're not _here,_ then _where_ are you?" They look over their shoulder at him as he follows them.

"Like I said. Nowhere." He bites his lip, his eyebrows drawing together. "I just kind of... blink out of existence, I guess. Until somethin' catches my attention, and then I get back here." His expression relaxes again, his eyes taking on that faraway look. Party turns toward the bed. "Guess that's why I hadn't realized so much time had passed... I've only been _here_ for a fraction of the time I've been dead."

Party sucks their lower lip into their mouth, thinking. "...Sounds lonely," they say after a moment, pulling their pants off and tossing them over the nightstand.

"Uh, what are you doing?" Jet asks, and Party looks back over at him to see that he's staring at them, wide-eyed. They raise an eyebrow at him.

"Gettin' ready for bed?" they say, unzipping their jacket and tossing it atop their jeans. "Why?"

"Well, I--sorry, I'll leave!" He turns abruptly away, floating up toward the ceiling.

"Uh... okay? Bye, then." Party frowns, watching Jet until he disappears into the ceiling. _What was_ that _about?_ They shake their head to dismiss the encounter and climb into their now dust-free bed.

Jet's a weird guy. But then again, who _isn't_ a little weird? He's in good company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that the spooky mysterious stuff is over, it's time for party and jet to get acquainted! 👀 Stay tuned for more 😘
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!! If you enjoyed this chapter, feel free to leave kudos or a comment!! You can also visit me on tumblr @enby-partypoison 💖😊💖


	5. Market Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Party and their crew head off in search of a marketplace.  
> The mystery of the abandoned diner deepens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heya hiya! i hope everyone's been doing well lately, and i hope this little fic of mine can brighten your day if need be! ✨☀✨
> 
> huge thank you as always to my fiance [Ace](https://funkobraofficial.tumblr.com/) and my friend [Pink](https://hyperthrust.tumblr.com/) for beta-reading this chapter! you're both so helpful and wonderful!! 😭💖
> 
> please enjoy this chapter! 😄🌵

"Think we got enough junk to get some good food?" Party asks, patting the trunk of the Trans Am. 

"We got enough stuff to be set for a _while,"_ Ghoul says, stretching his arms up over his head. "Should be able to get some charges an' the last parts I need to fix that oven, so long as there's a couple mechanics an' junk collectors there."

"There's _always_ junk collectors," Kobra says, lugging another box out of the diner. "It's the mechanics who're more finicky."

"Man," Ghoul says, moving to take the box from Kobra and earning a little forehead kiss in the process, "still kinda pissed I couldn't get apprenticed to that one mechanic a couple years ago. We'd be fuckin' _rich_ if that'd worked out." 

"Maybe there's a good mechanic 'round here who'll take ya," Kobra says. "Since it looks like we're gonna be stickin' around for a while. May as well look, yeah?"

"Sounds like a good plan to me," Party says, heading back for the diner. "'Course, Ghoul knows enough about that kinda thing now. Maybe _he_ should be the one takin' on an apprentice!"

Ghoul barks out a laugh. "Man, I _wish,"_ he says.

Party ducks back into the building before they can hear any more of the conversation, picking up the last box of clothes they'd set on the floor just inside the door. They're not sure how much they're gonna be able to get for everything they've got, since they're not familiar with the area yet and don't know what people are looking for or how wealthy the community is, but they've got enough variety that as long as _someone's_ willing to trade for _something,_ they're gonna be happy. 

They've got a mental list of all the stuff they wanna trade for--food, water, machine parts, paint, thread, wire, building materials, all that good stuff--and it's a luxury they haven't really allowed themself in years, to think about getting things not because they _need_ them, but just because they _want_ them. They don't _need_ paint or thread or building materials, but if they _did_ have them, they could fix up some stuff around the diner, make it a better place to live. They could have _fun_ with it!

It's a nice thing, to be able to think about the future and _want_ things, and know that you'll be _able to_ _have_ those things.

"Good morning, Party!" Jet says, and Party doesn't jump this time, just turns toward the sound of his voice with their grin in place.

"Jet!" they say. "Man, I didn't think I'd see you before we left! This is great. We're goin' to the market today. Ya wanna come with?"

He blinks, floats a little closer. "I... you want me to go with you? To the market?" He blinks again. _"Can_ I?"

Party blinks, a little unnerved by Jet's wide-eyed, earnest expression. "Uh, _yeah,"_ they say, clearing their throat. "Why not? Ya wanna see what it's like in the desert nowadays, don'tcha?"

"Yes," he says, smile widening. "Yeah, I--I do. I just--I dunno. I hadn't thought that you'd--I mean." He pauses, smile fading just a touch. "Want me to go, I guess?"

Party frowns. "Why wouldn't I want you to go with us?" they ask. Because, what? _Yeah,_ they'd been afraid of Jet when they first moved in, but that was like a _week_ ago! They've _talked_ to him now. They're _friends!_

Right?

Jet's quiet for a moment, reaching up and tucking a lock of glowy purple hair behind his ear. Party finds their eyes drawn to the motion. "You didn't exactly _ask_ to get stuck with me," he says a moment later, jarring Party out of their head and back to the conversation at hand. Jet's voice is quiet, uncertain; his eyes are downcast, his lower lip pulled between his teeth. "I just thought--well. A little time away from your unwelcome houseguest might be nice?"

Party blinks, trying to process his statement. A moment later, it clicks, and they open their mouth, a weird sound they can't quite explain erupting from their throat before they launch into their spiel. "Wait, _what?_ You think _you're_ an _'unwelcome'_ house guest?! Jet, babe, we literally _broke into_ your goddamn home and started tearin' shit apart! If anyone's an unwelcome house guest, it's _us!"_

"What?" Jet meets Party's eyes, clearly alarmed. "But I like havin' you here! You're not unwelcome, you--"

"Then we're all good," Party says, tilting their head at Jet and giving him what they hope is a comforting smile. "Nothin' wrong with sharin' a big place like this between the four of us, yeah? Now. Do you wanna go to the market with us, or not?"

"Yeah." Jet smiles again, nods. He's giving Party a grateful look, which... Well. Party sort of wishes they _didn't_ understand what he was feeling right now, but they're pretty sure they do. Relying on the kindness of others is sort of an essential part of life, but it's easy to feel like you're a burden on other people, too. They hope Jet doesn't feel like that, though. Not for long, anyway.

Party resettles the box of fabric in their arms and bumps the front door open with their hip, holding it open for Jet. The bright light of the mid-morning sun fills the room, dimming Jet's ethereal glow.

He floats toward the door cautiously, hesitant; Party wonders how long it's been since he actually left the diner. Can he feel the warmth of the sun on his... skin? Soul? Can he feel the dryness of the desert air?

Jet stops just short of the doorway, his mouth screwing up into a weird expression. Party waits, watching him, but when he shows no signs of moving after a few seconds, Party bumps the door again, wiggling it and drawing Jet's gaze back to them. 

"Hey," they say. "You comin'?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I just..." He trails off, shaking his head and looking back outside. "I... I changed my mind. I don't... I don't think I want to go. Not today." He floats back a few feet, pulling deeper into the building and into the shadows, his purple glow brightening.

"You sure?" Party can't keep the incredulity out of their tone; he'd just seemed so _excited_ to go like, a _minute_ ago. What's wrong?

"Yeah. Yeah, I, uh... think I'll just go another day."

"Well." Party's not entirely sure what to say to that. "If... I mean, I'm not gonna _force_ ya to go. Just... you're sure?"

_"Yes,"_ Jet snaps, and then immediately claps a hand over his mouth. "Fuck. Shit, sorry, I didn't mean to--" He shakes his head, and before Party can reply, continues, "Sorry, sorry, I didn't-- I'll just go. Sorry. Have a good time. Hope you find what you need."

And then he vanishes.

Party stares at the spot where Jet had been. What the _hell_ was that about?! 

"Party! You comin' or what?" Ghoul calls, and Party turns their head to see him leaning up against the driver's side door, waving at them. Kobra's already in the passenger seat.

"Yeah, gimme a minute!" they call back, and then peer inside the diner again. 

There's no sign of Jet, but they aren't really expecting any. "See you soon," they call, hoping Jet's still around and not in that _"other"_ place where he can't hear them. "We'll try an' bring ya back somethin' nice. ...Bye, Jet." 

They back out of the diner and let the door swing closed behind them, carrying their box of clothes to the car.

They try not to think too much about Jet Star, all alone in the broken-down diner again.

\-----

The diner's located just a few miles down the road from the town of Deadfall Drac, and Party likes the look of the place the moment they lay eyes on it.

Deadfall Drac's a fairly small town of only twenty or so buildings, mostly tiny things that look like they were probably sheds at one time, or built after the fall of Battery City using scrap materials, but there are a few actual houses, and, the most exciting of all, what looks to be a _motel._

"Shit," Ghoul says, leaning into the front seat between Party and Kobra. "That thing's actually got _two_ stories! _Intact!_ How many people d'ya think live there?"

"Dunno," Kobra says. "Prob'ly a lot. A hundred? 'Course, maybe the rooms only get rented out to travellers. Looks like this place gets a lotta through traffic."

Ghoul presses against Party's shoulder, causing them to jerk the steering wheel too far to the side. They shove him back toward Kobra as they straighten out the car. "You're not gonna have a building that huge without _some_ permanent residents," Ghoul protests. "Waste'a space! I bet there's at _least_ a hundred people livin' in this town. Which means there's gotta be a real good market!"

They pass the motel just then, and Party turns their head to peer at it more closely. It's definitely pre-BL/ind construction, with worn, chipped paint that might have been green or blue at one time but is now just a dirty gray color. Most of the windows are boarded up, but a few of them still have glass.

Seeing a town this size so close to the diner makes Party feel a little unnerved, far more than they should. If there's _this_ many people here, making use of so many buildings and materials, then how did the diner end up staying empty for so long? How was there still so much unclaimed _stuff_ in it?

Is it because of Jet somehow? Did he keep people away? But then, why would the three of _them_ be able to enter the building? And of course, they still don't know why _they_ can see him and the others can't. Ugh, it'd be really nice if Jet was here right now. Maybe he could answer some of their questions.

"...think? ...Party?"

"Hm?" Party looks over at Kobra, who's cocking an eyebrow at them. "Sorry, what? Kinda zoned out there for a minute."

Kobra rolls his eyes. "I _asked_ if we should stop and ask around or just drive around the town 'til we find the market."

"If we stop," Party says, "we're gonna get distracted. We can explore the town some other day."

"We gotta charge the battery soon, anyway," Ghoul says, settling back into his seat. "If we can find someone with a chargin' station, should keep us goin' 'til we can get the generator up an' runnin'."

"How many'd ya bring?" Party asks. Their car's really the only thing that runs on batteries, but there's enough old appliances and lamps and things back at the diner that having some electricity would be nice.

They wonder how long it's been since Jet had electricity.

"Most of 'em. Figure we've got enough to trade for a few charges."

"Maybe we've even got enough to get a solar panel or two," Kobra says, and Party doesn't have to look over to know his eyes are shining with excitement.

Party laughs, a quick, sharp sound. "Wouldn't _that_ be somethin'."

\-----

The market's located just outside of town, on the opposite end from the diner. It's easy to spot from the road, a collection of maybe thirty booths and tents of brightly colored fabric dotting the sand.

"Fuck yeah!" Ghoul says, scrambling to open his door before the car's even stopped. "This is a _good_ one. Shit! Kobes, look, I can see a heap'a scrap metal from here!"

Party manages to get the car parked, and everyone piles out. "Okay," they say. "You want me to try an' trade the stuff while you guys scout out the stuff we need?"

"Just the clothes," Kobra says, opening the trunk. "We'll try an' use the metal to get what we need. Just see what you can get for the clothes."

"Food, water, charges, all that good stuff. You got it, kid." Party claps a hand on their brother's shoulder and squeezes, then grabs the box of fabric from the car. They've got a ratty old blanket they've had for _ages,_ and that's gonna be their base of operations today.

The market place is laid out in a pretty organized manner, Party notices. There's three rows of stalls set up, with paths wide enough between them that people can pass each other without too much difficulty. Some of the stalls are actual wooden or plastic tables set up in the sand and lined with trade goods; others are cars, trunks open to display their wares, or blankets spread out over the ground, like Party's about to do.

They walk up to the booth at the end of the row closest to the car and set the box down, grabbing the blanket from inside and unfurling it across the sand. 

The person in the booth--tall and dark-skinned, with long braids pulled back from their face--leans out of the shade provided by the sun-faded awning over them and squints at Party. "Haven't seen your face 'round here," they say. "Passin' through?"

"Hopin' to stay a while," Party says, offering them a wide grin. "Name's Party Poison! Got some nice clothes to trade, if you're interested!"

The person shakes their head and settles back in their seat, the shadows obscuring them again. "Deadfall's a good place to live," they say. "Tommy Chow Mein can getcha set up with a room if you're lookin' for permanent digs."

"Nah, we're good, thanks," Party says, carefully arranging the clothes on the blanket. It'd be nice to have some clothing racks to hang these on, but it would've been too difficult and time-consuming to make them and bring them out here with all the other stuff in the car, and it's not like they're gonna be selling clothes _forever._ Once they run out of what they've found at the diner, that's gonna be the end of it. "Tommy Chow Mein... that the name of the guy who runs that big motel we saw on the way in?"

"Yep." The person pops their 'p.' "Also runs a shop, got lots of food and water available year-'round. Oh--I'm Annabelle, by the way. He/him."

"Really? Like a full-on _shop?_ " Party glances over at him, raising an eyebrow. Marketplaces are something you can find in every town, and usually in strongholds and even smaller settlements, too; made up of travellers and however many permanent residents have something to offer, they're the main center of trade in the desert. Permanent shops, though, are quite a bit rarer. Party's only come across a few in their travels, and those had all been in towns quite a bit bigger than Deadfall Drac. 

"Oh, yeah. Tommy's got anything ya can't find at the market." Annabelle sits up straight then, turning back toward the front of his booth. "Show Pony! Good to see ya!"

"Oh, Annabelle, darling!" 

Party turns toward the new voice, spotting a flashily-dressed person with tan skin skating toward them. Literally _skating;_ they've got roller skates strapped to their feet. They don't seem to be too impeded by the loose sand, coming to a graceful halt in front of Annabelle's booth.

"Why _hello_ there," the newcomer--Show Pony?--says, leaning their elbows on the booth. "Have you got my new knee pads?"

"Sure do!" Annabelle reaches under the booth and produces a bag made of faded cloth, which he then hands over to Show Pony. 

Show Pony glances over at Party just as they're taking the bag and blinks. Then they grin. "And hello to you, too! A traveller, hm? What're you tradin' over here? _Clothes?!_ Well, don't mind if I _do."_

It takes Party a moment to unstick their brain enough to address them, by which point Show Pony's already rummaging through the clothes Party's laid out. "Uh, yeah. Got a lotta nice clothes here! If you want somethin' flashier, I got a few pieces ya might like!" they turn away to tug the box closer and pull out a shiny pink satin shirt. It's got a couple of holes near the hem, but otherwise it's in pretty good shape, considering it was in a dusty closet for like 50 years or whatever.

Show Pony takes it and looks it over, their mouth stretching into a wide, pleased smile. "This is _precisely_ my taste!" They clutch the shirt to their chest. "What're you lookin' to get for it? And _what_ is your _name,_ if you don't mind my askin', sugar?"

Party beams back, getting to their feet. They find that they're about the same height as Show Pony, which, with their skates adding to their height, means they must be a couple inches shorter than Party is. "I'm Party Poison, they/them. Willin' to trade for most anything, 'specially basic staples."

"Party Poison. A _lovely_ name. I'm Show Pony. Ae/aer, if you please." Ae tilts aer head, watching them. "Aside from items, are you interested in _services?"_ Show Pony speaks the word on a purr, and Party feels themself flush.

"Well now," they say, adding a flirtatious lilt to their own tone. "I s'pose that depends on the _kind_ 'a services bein' offered." 

Show Pony smirks, tilting aer face _just so,_ and moving closer to Party. Ae places a finger on their chest, the tip of aer tongue flicking out to lick their lips. Party's just starting to think they've got a grasp on the kind of _services_ Show Pony's offering and trying to figure out how to politely turn aer down, when ae opens aer mouth and says, "I'm a runner, darling. I can get any message or package to its intended recipient quicker'n anyone else around." Ae moves back then, the smirk still playing on aer lips. "Of course, if you've got somethin' that needs to go across the desert, it's gonna cost more than just a _single_ shirt, regardless of quality."

Party shakes their head. Has Show Pony given them _whiplash?_ Probably. "Oh, ah. Nah, don't have anythin' that's gotta get from point A to point B. Not yet, anyway; I'll keep ya in mind if I do, a'course, but we're just gettin' settled. Prob'ly gonna be a while before we need that kinda thing." They smile apologetically at aer, but ae only shrugs, tossing them another smile.

"That's fine, I've got plenty'a _actual_ tradin' material. Just thought I'd throw it out there." Ae moves back a bit farther, holding the shirt out in both hands and looking it over, examining the holes in the hem for just a moment before moving on to other parts of the shirt. "You said you're still settlin' in? Plannin' on stickin' around here for a while then, hm? Got enough batteries?"

"Yeah, we found some prime real estate," Party says, watching aer turn the shirt over and over in aer hands. "Think we've got enough batteries, but if you could give us a couple charges, I'd consider that a fair exchange."

Show Pony's smile brightens, and ae folds the shirt over aer arm before extending aer hand for them to shake. "Deal! We've got plenty electricity to spare back at the station. Bring your batteries by whenever you like, I'll take care of 'em." 

Party shakes aer hand, sealing the trade. "The station?" they ask. 

Show Pony nods. "Radio station! Easy enough to spot when you get to town; it's the only buildin' with an antenna bigger'n it is on top'a the roof." Ae laughs, adjusting aer stance to cock one hip out, resting aer hand on it. "You said you found yourself some prime real estate, hm? You move into the motel, then?"

"Nah." Party turns back to their box, setting out the rest of the clothes they've brought. "Old diner up the road. Nice an' homey." They bite their lip as soon as the words leave their mouth. Fuck, should they even have said anything about the diner? 

"The diner?" Show Pony's voice has gotten a weird edge to it, and, okay, _nope._ Shouldn't have mentioned the diner. Shit. 

Still, it's too late to back out now. Party shrugs, setting the now-empty box aside. "Yeah. Pretty weird, seems like it was abandoned for a long time. But, well, free real estate an' all that, yeah?"

"Yeah." Party looks up to see Show Pony watching them with a strange, unreadable expression. They swallow, and try their best to look unperturbed. "How long've you been there? Noticed anything... _strange_ about the place?"

"'Bout a week," Party says. "And besides it bein' abandoned? Nope. Nothin' weird. Why?" How many people around here know about Jet?

Show Pony watches them for another long moment, and then aer expression shifts back into the charming smirk ae'd been wearing previously. "No reason," ae says, in a way that implies ae knows way more than ae's letting on. "Just might wanna be careful who you talk to 'bout that old place. Some people 'round here get a little... _suspicious_ of it."

"Suspicious," Party repeats, studying aer face. What does Show Pony know? Does ae... _know_ about Jet? Party can't help but feel protective over him, and a little angry; if Show Pony--or anyone else, for that matter--knows about Jet, then why hasn't someone tried to talk to him? Or at least, like, _hang out_ with him? He's been stuck there for _so long._ Does no one care?

Show Pony rolls aer eyes then. "Just watch what you say, Mx. Party Poison." Ae skates backward a bit, out into the path between market stalls. "Come on down to the station whenever you need those batteries charged," ae calls, waving one arm high above aer head. "And thank you _so much_ for the _lovely_ new shirt!" Ae winks then and pushes away, kicking up a cloud of sand in aer wake.

Party's left with more questions than answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohoho, what's this? does show pony know something? and what's up with jet? spooky.... 👀👀👀
> 
> thank you so much for reading!! if you enjoyed this chapter, please feel free to leave kudos or a comment! i'd love to know your thoughts! 💖  
> you can also message me on tumblr [@enby-partypoison](https://enby-partypoison.tumblr.com/)! i'm currently on a social media break, so i won't be replying to anything on tumblr until that's over, but rest assured i WILL reply to everything!
> 
> have a wonderful day and please take care of yourselves!!


	6. Nowhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghoul has a strange dream.  
> Jet reveals a few interesting facts about himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello! i hope this chapter finds you well! ✨😄✨
> 
> BIG thank you to my friend [Pink](https://hyperthrust.tumblr.com/) for beta-reading this chapter!!
> 
> please enjoy! 😘💕

When the three of them arrive back at the diner late that afternoon, drenched in sweat from the hot, hot sun, it's with plenty of supplies to keep them all happy and healthy for a good, long while.

Kobra and Ghoul managed to get all the parts they needed (including an actual goddamn  _ solar panel,  _ fuck  _ yes!) _ , and between the three of them they've got food, water, soap, and other useful stuff. Party'd even been able to splurge and trade for some actual  _ cookies. _ Cookies! They haven't had cookies in  _ years, _ not since they stayed with Ghoul's family for a bit and got baked goods of all kinds shoved down their throats.

Food's never been something they've had to be without, of course, but there's a  _ world _ of difference between necessary staples to survive, and treats meant just to  _ taste good. _

Their mouth is watering just at the  _ thought _ of the cookies, but they can't eat them yet. They can't even tell Kobra or Ghoul about them yet; they're a surprise for later, and Party carefully stows the little bag in their nightstand drawer.

"Hey," Jet says from behind them, and Party looks over their shoulder as they shut the drawer.

"Jet!" Party turns around to fully face him, stepping closer and tilting their head back to look up at him. He's always hovering up by the ceiling; they wonder if he's doing it on purpose. "Hey, man, how're you doin'?"

"I'm fine." He moves then, pulling away from the ceiling and closer to Party. "How about you? Did you get everything you needed?"

He's close enough now that his hair, floating weightlessly around him as always, might tickle their cheek if he was, you know... corporeal and shit. Still, it's close enough that Party's breath catches in their throat for just a moment, and then Jet's pulling away again. They clear their throat, hoping Jet hasn't noticed them being weird. "Uh, yeah! Yeah, we got a buncha shit. Traded off a good amount'a stuff, too. All good."

"Good." Jet looks around the room, eyes flicking from here to there. "Seems like it's a lot easier to get essentials now than it was when I was-- uh. Alive." His gaze lands on the nightstand behind Party, and he tilts his head. "What's in there? Er-- sorry! You don't have to tell me if it's, uh, personal!"

Party snorts, amused. They can feel their awkwardness melting away again. They step aside so Jet can more easily see around them, and pull open the drawer. "Surprise for Kobes an' Ghoul, so don't tell 'em!" They pause. "Well, okay, guess that's not somethin' we have to worry about. Anyway, check it out!" They pull the little wax-coated cloth bag back out and tug on the drawstring, tilting the opening toward Jet so he can peer inside.

"...Cookies?" Jet asks curiously. "That's cool. Is there a holiday or somethin' comin' up?"

"Nah." Party re-ties the bag shut and stashes it away again. "Just figured we all deserved a li'l somethin' nice after the rough few years we've had, an' someone offered 'em with some other stuff for a pair'a pants. Couldn't turn that down!"

"Glad the clothes have been so good for you," Jet says, floating over to the closet. "It's weird to me that clothes are worth so much now. Clothes used to be one of the easiest things to get ahold of. Harder to get actual  _ food _ most of the time." His head phases through the closet door, disappearing from view; it's  _ really _ disconcerting.

"Oh," he says, and it's weird that his voice sounds exactly the same, not muffled or anything despite his head being separated from the rest of the room by an inch or two of solid wood. "You didn't sell my jacket?" He pulls his head back into the room, eyeing Party. "Or did no one wanna buy it?"

"What?" Party blinks. "Oh, the denim with the spider on it, right? Dude, no, I didn't take that to be traded!"

"Why not?" Jet asks, his eyebrows drawing together and voice lowering in pitch a little. He sounds kind of  _ defensive, _ actually. "I'm sure someone would pay good carbons for it!"

"Well,  _ yeah, _ " Party says. "But that's  _ your _ jacket."

Jet's face goes blank for a second, and then he cocks an eyebrow at them. "It's not like I can wear it anymore," he says, voice neutral. "You don't have to keep it just 'cause it used to be  _ mine." _

"You tellin' me you don't have an emotional connection to that jacket?" Party asks. "'Cause all the stories about the killjoys have one thing in common: their jackets and their masks." they pause. "Okay, well, that's technically  _ two _ things. And also the whole fighting-the-government thing. But you get what I mean." They settle themself on the edge of the bed, facing Jet. "Jackets were important, weren't they?"

"...Yes." Jet's glowing body lowers itself a foot or so. "But I wouldn't want you to give up food just because I have a...  _ sentimental _ attachment to an old jacket."

"Jet. I had  _ more _ than enough stuff to trade today without touchin' your jacket. I didn't even trade a  _ quarter _ of the stuff I brought! It's fine." They kick their boots off, nudging them to the side. "I seriously don't think we'd  _ ever _ have to trade your jacket, but if I promise to trade it  _ if _ we need to, will that help?"

"...Yeah." Jet sighs, and he gives them a wry smile. "I guess it's kinda stupid to still have so much attachment to it when I've been  _ dead _ for fifty years, though, huh?"

Party bites their lip. How do you comfort a ghost? "I mean, you've still got all your thoughts an' all--  _ most _ of your memories. Right? It's not that weird."

"I guess." Jet studies them for a moment longer, and then he floats back up to the ceiling. "Sorry, you've prob'ly had a long day. I should let you rest."

"No, it's--" 

He's gone before they can finish their sentence. "--it's fine," they sigh, rubbing the heel of their hand into their eye.  _ Shit. _ They hadn't even asked if he was okay after that whole  _ thing _ this morning. What  _ was _ that, anyway? He'd been so excited to leave with them, and then he'd just... changed his mind. It wouldn't have been  _ that _ weird--Party's no stranger to anxiety, their own or their brother's, of course--but it was just so  _ abrupt _ that they can't help but worry a little.

Well, whatever. They can just talk to him again tomorrow. For now, it's too hot to stay up any longer; they're gonna catch up on some sleep.

\-----

"Had a weird fuckin' dream," Ghoul greets Party with as they stumble sleepily out of their room later that evening. "Wanna hear about it?"

"No," Party croaks. They're fuckin'  _ thirsty. _ They make their way past Ghoul and into the kitchen, where they've stashed their water barrels. "Where's Kobes?"

"Still sleepin'." Ghoul follows them into the kitchen. "Anyway, so in this dream I was, like, sittin' on top of a sand dune, yeah? Think it was one'a those from around that li'l stronghold we stopped in a couple months back. Remember, with all the real red pebbles an' shit? Anyway! So I was sittin' on the sand dune, watchin' the sun set. An' then this, like,  _ person  _ started talkin' to me. I don't remember most of what they said, 'cept  _ 'You're finally here.' _ An' I was like, what the fuck are you talkin' about? Finally where? An' they were like--"

Clearly, Ghoul doesn't take  _ "no" _ for an answer. Whatever; it's not like Party really expected anything else. They fill up a glass of water and take slow, steady sips as they listen to him talk.

"-- _ "I'll see you again soon," _ an' then I looked over and saw 'em sittin' there, watchin' me, and dude, Party, do you know who it was?"

"No. Who?" Party takes another sip of their water and then sets it aside for later. They're getting kinda hungry. What can they make to eat?

"It was fuckin'  _ Destroya!" _

Party raises an eyebrow at him.  _ "Destroya?" _ they ask. "Why're you havin' dreams about  _ giant robots?" _

"They didn't even  _ look _ like a robot!" Ghoul says, waving his arms in the air. "They just looked like a  _ person, _ but like, I couldn't make out their face or features or anythin', ya know?"

"Then how do you know it was Destroya?" Party rolls their eyes, opening up a cupboard. They just got some flour and stuff yesterday. Maybe they can make biscuits?

"I could just  _ tell, _ ya know? Like ya do in  _ dreams. _ Anyway, I woke up like, right after that, but it was so  _ weird. _ " Ghoul hops up on the counter, kicking his feet against the cupboard beneath. "Haven't had a dream that weird in a  _ while. _ Hey, where's Jet? I wanna ask 'im some stuff!"

"Oh, I dunno. He disappeared before I fell asleep last night." Party sets out the necessary ingredients on the counter. "If he doesn't show up by the time we finish eating, I can try to call him? I got some stuff I wanna ask 'im, too."

Ghoul hums in reply, then falls silent as Party works. It's kind of nice, to cook in a place like this; it reminds them of the farming stronghold they picked Ghoul up from. That one was a small community, only twenty or so people in the whole thing, but they had a whole  _ building _ dedicated just to cooking and eating and that sort of thing, and they cooked up meals for the whole stronghold in there every day. Party's nothing more than a passable cook, and doesn't really enjoy the process too much, but they'd always found themself looking forward to helping out in the kitchen there. It was nice to be a part of something big like that, and know that you were helping people by making them something.

It had been a tough decision to leave that stronghold behind, but with this entire diner for them to use now, it feels a little more like the right decision.

"Hey Ghoul," Party calls over their shoulder once they've got the dough mixed together. "This oven work yet, or am I makin' food outside?"

"Huh? Oh!" they hear Ghoul's feet hit the floor, followed by several quick footsteps as he hurries over. "Yeah, me an' Kobes got it all put together before we went to bed! Check it out, it's so fuckin' cool!"

He leads them over to the cleanest oven in the room and opens it up. There's definitely more metal bits and things in this oven than there had been yesterday.

"Does it work like the one your mom uses?" Party asks, peering at the dials on the back of the stove. It seems pretty similar; bake, preheat, and broil on one, and various temperatures on the other.  _ Shit. _ What temperature do the biscuits cook at? They've been cooking over a fire for so long that they don't remember all the fancy  _ precise _ things you're supposed to do when you're cooking in a kitchen. Does it matter? They can probably just play it by ear, right?

"Yeah, it's just an older model than ma's." Ghoul leans over and moves the dials; when he pulls back, there's a little red light gleaming between the dials, and the arrows are pointed at  _ "preheat" _ and  _ "400 _ _ °."  _ Oh, yeah. Ghoul did this kind of thing his whole life, practically. "Kobes an' me tested it last night! If it doesn't give you any problems, then I think it's all good."

"Sweet." Party grabs one of the old pans they'd found in here and gets the biscuits set up; these are gonna be fuckin'  _ tasty. _ "Hey, we got any meat besides that jerky? You get any traps set up yet?"

"I put a couple up the first day we were here," he says. "Haven't caught anything yet, though; think maybe I gotta move 'em farther from the diner." He shrugs. "So we just got jerky, but we got a good bit of it, 'cause Kobes picked some up yesterday."

"Huh," Party says. "Weird." In Party's experience, there's been plenty of animals that  _ love _ hanging around man-made dwellings: squirrels and all sorts of lizards and stuff especially. Now that they think about it, they haven't really seen  _ any _ animals inside or outside of the diner since they got here. That's  _ so _ weird. Maybe it has to do with the fact that there hasn't been any food in the building for decades?

Or maybe the animals stay away for the same reason no one's lived here for years. Maybe Jet's presence scares them off, somehow?

Ugh, this is  _ weird! _ Party doesn't know jack shit about ghosts and what have you. It's  _ Ghoul's _ job to overthink supernatural stuff, and Party's not gonna tell Ghoul their suspicions, because Ghoul's gonna run with it and give Party the heebie jeebies again.

The oven  _ clicks, _ and the light turns off, and Party jumps. Ghoul snickers beside them, and Party knees him in the thigh as they push him aside to slide the tray of biscuits inside. They barely remember to set the dial from  _ "preheat" _ to  _ "bake," _ but they do; and there's a sudden cold breeze on their back.

"Jet!" they say, turning to face his glow. They're a mixture of nervous and excited, somehow.

"Hi, Party," Jet says, lowering himself to eye level and smiling. "Awake already? Oh-- hi, Ghoul!"

"Jet says hi," Party says absently. "Hey, so, yesterday--"

"Jet!" Ghoul interrupts, grinning at him-- or, well, grinning at Jet's kneecaps. "Hey, man, I got some questions for you about Ghost Town!"

"Ghost Town?" Jet seems amused, glancing between Ghoul and Party with a little smirk. Party has to slap a hand over Ghoul's mouth to keep him from launching into a rant while Jet talks. "No idea what that is. Also,  _ please _ don't call me 'man.'"

"He says not to call 'im 'man,'" Party tells Ghoul, and then looks back to Jet. "Uh, wait, sorry. Your pronouns are he/him, right?"

"Yeah," Jet says, grinning. "But I don't like 'man.' I'm nonbinary."

"Shit!" Party's practically  _ bouncing. _ "You're nonbinary?!  _ I'm _ nonbinary!"

"I figured," Jet laughs. He floats closer, one glowing hand pushing his phantasmal hair away from his face. "I mean, I don't know what the whole gender landscape is like these days, but when I was alive, most people didn't use they/them unless they were  _ not _ of a binary persuasion." He laughs again.

Party feels their face heat up. "Uh," they say. "Right, right, it's pretty obvious, huh? I-- _ yeugh!" _ They whip their hand away from Ghoul's mouth and frantically wipe their hand on the leg of their jeans. "Ghoul, you little goddamn  _ gremlin!  _ Fuckin'  _ nasty!" _

Ghoul gags, then wipes his tongue on the sleeve of his shirt. "Don't worry, your hand tastes fuckin'  _ gross, _ Party." He turns toward where Jet had been a few seconds ago, but now he's just staring at Jet's feet hovering in the air. "Sorry, won't call ya 'man' again. You good with bro? Dude? Uh... guy?"

Jet scoots himself backward in midair with some sort of weird swimming motion so he can more or less look Ghoul in the eye. Pretty polite, considering Ghoul can't see him either way. "Those are all fine. I just don't like 'man.' Or 'woman,' for that matter."

Party passes on the info to Ghoul. It's hot here by the oven; they hadn't quite noticed until Jet had moved away. They press closer to him, into his...  _ cold aura _ or whatever the fuck it is.

"Okay, cool, got it. Anyway! So I wanted to ask you about wherever it is you go when you disappear! Party says you don't know where it is, but I got questions an' you're the  _ only _ one who can answer 'em!"

Jet's face falls slightly. He glances at Party, but they have no idea what his expression means; they don't know how to respond, so they just shrug at him. He sighs, eyes falling closed, and nods.

"Go ahead," Party says to Ghoul, though they're really not sure if that's the correct response at this point.

"Sweet!" Ghoul's smile has that manic edge to it he always gets when he's deep in Research Mode. "Okay! So when you disappear, do you  _ know _ you're gone from the physical world? Or do you just kinda blink an' it's been three hours or somethin'?"

"Uh." Jet blinks; Party guesses he hadn't been expecting that exact question. "It's sorta like... falling asleep, I guess?" His eyes roll up toward the ceiling and his lips part. "I can tell time's passed, but never how much, and I don't...  _ experience _ anything while I'm nowhere."

Party passes on his answer as closely as they can. 

"Huh." Ghoul nods. "So it's  _ not _ like, a town of ghosts you go to? You don't go to the afterlife and meet the Phoenix Witch every time you leave?"

"No." Jet's jaw flexes. "I've never met the Phoenix Witch."

"You've  _ never _ met the Phoenix Witch?" Party asks, incredulous. "But you're  _ dead!" _

__ "I know." Jet's voice sounds tight.

"Wait," Ghoul says. "Then have you met Destroya?"

"No." Jet's starting to dim again, his glow fading, and Party can start to make out the outline of the cabinets behind him.  _ Shit. _ He's getting really upset. "Honestly, at this point, I don't even think either of 'em are real."

"You don't think they're  _ real?" _ Party's brain feel sluggish, having trouble processing their thoughts. "But... they're  _ the Phoenix Witch. _ And  _ Destroya. _ I mean, how can you--"

"I've been dead for  _ fifty years," _ Jet snaps, voice seething. The bowl Party had been using falls off the counter with a loud  _ clang _ and rolls toward their feet. They jump, spinning to look at it.  _ "Fifty _ years, and neither of 'em have ever come to see me, or even  _ talk _ to me! If they were real, I wouldn't be...  _ stuck _ here!"

There's another crash as several more things fall from the counter, and Party looks at Jet again. He's glowing  _ brighter _ now, cold  _ pouring _ off of him like  _ ice. _ What the  _ hell?! _

"Jet," Ghoul says, sounding fucking  _ excited. _ "Jet, holy shit, are you doing this? What the hell is  _ happening?" _

__ "I." Jet stops, his purple glow fading back to normal. He looks at the mess of food spilled across the floor, looks between Ghoul and Party, and they can see guilt flash across his face, clear as day. "I'm  _ so _ sorry, I-- I let my emotions get the best of me, I--  _ shit. _ I'm sorry, I'll--"

He dims, and then vanishes before Party can blink.

"Party!" A hand at their elbow. "Hey, Party! What's goin' on? What'd he say?"

They turn to look at Ghoul, unsure of what to think. "He-- he left," is all they can say.

Ghoul's expression turns disappointed. "Damn," he says. "I had more questions for 'im." He looks down at the food spilled across the floor, and Party follows his gaze. Shit-- all their cornmeal is useless now, and the bottle of milk's been broken and spilled across the floor. "Oh, well," Ghoul says. "Guess I got more info about ghost powers, huh?"

"Yeah," Party mutters, bending to salvage what they can from the mess. "Guess so." 

They hope Jet's okay. Or, that he  _ will _ be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for ending the chapter on a sour note 😔 but!! some cool stuff happened anyway!! catch me finally making good on the Nonbinary Jet Star tag and dropping some Plot Hints.... some of which are heavier-handed than others 👀
> 
> thank you so much for reading!! if you enjoyed this chapter, feel free to leave kudos or a comment! i'd love to hear your thoughts!! 💖  
> you can also message me on tumblr [@enby-partypoison](https://enby-partypoison.tumblr.com/)! my social media break is over and i'm back on my bullshit ✌
> 
> have a wonderful day! take care of yourselves as best you can! 💖


	7. Memories and Messages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jet reminisces about his old crew.  
> Kobra has some news... and a goal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello! i hope everyone's doing well!! today's my brother's anniversary! he and his husband have been married for a whole year now!! 💖🌈💖
> 
> BIG thank you to my friend [Pink](https://hyperthrust.tumblr.com/) and my fiance [Ace](https://funkobraofficial.tumblr.com/) for beta-reading this chapter! what would i do without the two of you?!  
> 😭💖
> 
> please enjoy!

Jet sat atop the roof of the old diner, eyes trained toward the east. The news report earlier had said that there were a few patrols headed in this direction, and he wanted to be ready in case they came this far out.

He couldn't help but worry about the other members of his crew, though; Sure, Lime and Sideshow were in the building below him, probably watching out the window with their ray guns on the table in front of them, but everyone else was scattered around the desert. Neo, Sting, and Scratch were out on a supply run, and Newsie was out doing whatever it was they did to get information; maybe they were the one who'd seen the patrols in the first place and relayed the info to Hot Chimp. 

A glint in the distance, something shiny moving on the horizon. Jet tightened his grip on his ray gun, willing himself to see more clearly. Was it a patrol? Was it Newsie or the others, driving back home? Some other killjoy out on the road? He didn't know.

"Hey, Jet!" Lime called from down below, and Jet tore his eyes from the desert landscape to lean over the edge and peer down. "Chimp says all the patrols've been taken out! You can come down now, drink some water."

Jet blinked. "That was fast," he said. It couldn't have been more than twenty minutes since the first news report had gone out.

They shrugged. "Been about four hours," they said, bafflingly. "Must've been some tough crews at the ready, huh?"

He shook his head. Had he really been up there for four hours? Damn. "Be down in a minute," he said, straightening up and turning to look at the horizon again. The glinting was still there, moving in this direction. "Wanna see what this car comin' up is, first."

"Okay," Lime said. "But if you're not down in ten minutes, I'm sendin' Sideshow up to carry you down."

He laughed at that, knowing they were serious. Limelight and Sideshow were the newest members of their crew, teenagers fresh from the city, but they'd already integrated into the crew surprisingly well. "I'll be there," he called back, keeping his eyes on the glint.

He didn't allow himself to relax completely. Just loosened his grip on his ray gun as he watched the vehicle move. It was closer now, close enough that he could tell it was a single vehicle, something fairly small. Not Newsie, then; their big clunky van wouldn't move that fast, anyway. 

He leaned forward, legs dangling off the edge of the roof. He wiped sweat off his forehead. Fuck, it was hot. Maybe it  _ had _ been four hours, after all. 

He could hear the car now, the gravelly roar of the engine, and he grinned. He'd know that motor anywhere!

Jet tucked his ray gun into its holster and pushed off the roof, landing with a dull  _ thud _ in the sand below. He absently brushed the granules from his clothes and called into the diner, "Car's back!" before hurrying for the road.

The car pulled off the road, barrelling toward him, and Jet grinned and waved as the sand swept around him. Scratch was out first, climbing out the passenger side before the car had even fully stopped, flinging his arms out at Jet for a hug. "Hey, dude!" he called. "Long time no see!"

Jet laughed and pulled him into an embrace. "Just saw me yesterday, man," he teased, lifting one hand to give Scratch a noogie. 

Scratch squealed and twisted in his grip, struggling to break free. Fuck, he'd missed his friends. 

He released Scratch once he saw the driver's side open, and none other than Neonfuck climbed out, wearing that wide, smug grin he always had. Jet's heart beat a little faster, feeling almost  _ shy _ as he returned the smile.

"Hey, Superstar," Neo said, cocking one highlighter-yellow eyebrow at him.  _ Destroya, _ but Jet loved it when he called him that. "Heard there were some fuckin' patrols out. Guess they didn't get this far out, huh?"

"Yeah, no, uh, we didn't see anything. Guess you were okay, too. Got kinda worried about you." He cleared his throat, face heating. "Uh, anyway, you guys get everythin' you went after?"

Scratch elbowed him in the ribs, pulling away to go help Sting out of the car. "Couldn't get ahold'a any batteries," he said, "but we managed to find everythin' else!"

"Still no batteries?" Jet sighed. Batteries used to be some of the most common BL/ind products out there; it felt like people were  _ giving  _ them away every market day. It seemed as though BL/ind had noticed the killjoys making good use of them, though, because they'd tightened their grip on them.

Unfortunately, that meant that Sting had to rely on her manual wheelchair (which didn't do great in the loose, shifting sand) instead of the cool-ass robotic legs Newsie had scored for her. She was  _ never _ happy about that.

An arm settled around his shoulders, and Jet knew without looking (though he did, of course, look) that it was Neo. He squeezed Jet, laying his head on his shoulder, and Jet couldn't help the smile creeping back to his face. "Missed you, Star," Neo mumbled.

"Welcome back, Neo." 

\-----

Party eyes the room in front of them in annoyance.  _ Ugh. _ How the hell are they supposed to sort through  _ this _ mess?! The kitchen had been bad enough, but the dining room is in  _ shambles, _ and with Kobes and Ghoul off setting up solar power, the responsibility of cleaning it falls to them alone.

It's not a big deal or anything, but they fucking  _ hate _ cleaning, and it's gonna take them five times as long to do as it would if they had someone to talk to. They groan, kicking at a balled-up piece of paper.

The hair raises on the back of their neck, and they shiver. "Jet?" they call, looking around; but they don't see his glowing purple figure. They sigh, turning back to the task at hand. They haven't seen Jet since he vanished in the kitchen two days ago, and they can't help but worry.

Ghoul had been excited about Jet's  _ ghost powers _ or whatever, ready to ask him a bunch more questions, but he just... hasn't shown up again since then. 

Party sighs, bending over to start sifting through the ages-old trash in here. If Jet's currently  _ nowhere _ , then all Party should have to do to get him back is to catch his attention somehow, but they haven't been able to  _ yet,  _ and they aren't even sure if he's actually nowhere or if he's  _ here _ and just  _ invisible _ and ignoring them or something.

_ Ugh. _ Being roommates with a ghost is  _ way _ more complicated than they would have thought.

They shove a few torn and dirty sheets of paper into the  _ keep _ box--wonder if Ghoul can read them, or if they'd even be worth looking over before they get turned into tinder--and then sit down on the floor. They cross their legs beneath them, prop their elbow on one knee, prop their chin in their hand, and look around.

The windows are filthy, their glass coated in a thick layer of grime. The sunlight outside doesn't so much  _ stream in _ as  _ cause the windows to glow a dull yellow. _

There's stuff strewn all across the floor and the booths, piles of wood and metal and plastic and who knows  _ what _ else stacked high in places. Was it like this when Jet was alive? Or did this mess happen later, caused by people who've lived here since?

Party sighs again. They lean to one side and shift some debris around. Papers, plastic wrappers, metal bits and pieces. Something made of some kind of heavy fabric. 

They lift it up from the floor to eye level so they can look at it better; it's a mask. A  _ genuine killjoy mask! _ Holy fuck, this is a  _ relic! _ It's bright orange, or was at one time, now faded a bit, the colors dulled with dust and dirt. It's a half mask, made to cover the eyes and forehead, and at the top are two triangles cut from a different type of fabric, affixed to the mask like cat ears. Looking closer, they can see blue markings around the left eye, three lines made to look like scratches across the eye.

This is a  _ killjoy mask! _ The person who wore this mask fought against BL/ind and saved everyone. They were a hero! 

And this mask is in the diner.  _ Jet's _ diner. Was this Jet's mask? Did it belong to one of his friends?

Suddenly, the mask is less exciting, more...  _ sad. _ This mask never made it to the mailbox, and if its owner is dead....

"Party."

Party whips their head toward the sound of the voice, the sound of  _ Jet's _ voice, and finds him hovering up close to the ceiling above them, a worried expression on his face with his lower lip caught between his teeth. 

Their heart leaps in their chest. "Jet! Holy shit, you're back! Where've you been?! I got so  _ worried _ about you! Are you okay?!"

Jet blinks, his mouth falling open ever so slightly. "You were worried about  _ me?" _

"Yeah! You were really upset when you vanished, and you were gone for  _ days! _ I don't know how this ghost stuff works!  _ Are _ you okay?"

He blinks again, hair whirling around his face as his ghostly body lowers itself from the ceiling, until he's hovering just above their upturned face now, the chill he carries with him washing over their face. They swallow. 

"I'm fine," he says after a moment. His eyes flick back and forth, shifting between Party's face and... well, whatever else in the room he's looking at. Party doesn't know. "I... I just wanted to apologize, for... throwing a tantrum, I guess." He reaches up and tucks a lock of glowy hair behind his ear, glancing away from them again.

Party can only stare at him for a long moment after that. They've never seen Jet look so nervous, not even when they first got here and kept freaking out at him for  _ existing. _ "It's fine," they say. "You-- I mean, you were upset. No one was hurt. Nothing was broken." Well, they lost some of their food, but that was fine. They still had plenty, and Ghoul had used the inedible stuff as bait for some of his traps. "Ghoul was pretty fuckin' excited, honestly. We didn't know you could actually move stuff."

Jet sighs, floating back upwards a few inches. A lock of his hair passes through Party's cheek, but they don't feel anything besides a pinprick of cold. "It takes a lot of energy to do," he says. "And it's not very... precise. I don't usually move stuff like that on purpose. It just happens when I'm upset." He rubs his arm, still avoiding their gaze.

"Huh." Party shifts, leaning back against the side of the booth behind them so they can look up at him without so much effort. They stretch their legs out in front of them, cross their ankles. "You were, ah,  _ really _ upset about the whole... Witch thing, huh?"

"Sorry," Jet mutters. "I don't want to take it out on you.  _ Any _ of you. I just can't bring myself to believe in the Witch or Destroya or any  _ other _ gods anymore. Not when I'm like--  _ this." _ He gestures up and down his body. 

Party's heart squeezes, and they instinctively reach into their pocket and rub their thumb over the scrap of blue leather they carry there. They've always believed in the Phoenix Witch, and the afterlife she guides souls to. There's never been a reason to doubt it; the killjoys believed in her, left offerings to her, just as people still do today. Destroya blesses the desert, keeps everyone fed. When things go wrong, you pray to one or the other, or both. 

But why doesn't  _ Jet _ get to go to the afterlife?

Party doesn't know what to say to that. They  _ always _ know what to say! But not here, not with Jet. 

The silence stretches on, and Party opens their mouth to say something--to say  _ anything- _ -when Jet speaks.

"Where did you find that mask?" he asks, voice quiet, and Party follows his gaze to the orange cat-mask they'd almost forgotten about on their knee. 

Jet sinks toward them again, until his whole body is eye level with them. He reaches out to touch the mask, but of course his fingers sink right through it and into Party's leg. The jolt of cold causes them to hiss, and Jet quickly yanks his hand away.

"Sorry," he says quickly. "It's just-- this was my friend's mask."

Party lifts it toward him, and he watches it, ghostly body shifting until instead of hovering above them, he's sitting cross-legged on the floor beside them. They blink. If not for the faint purple glow and the fact that his hair is still floating weightlessly around him, Party would never believe him to be a ghost capable of flight and telekinesis or whatever the hell that was. He's just...

A person.

"What was their name?" they ask softly, and his eyes flicker to theirs briefly before settling on the mask again.

"Cat Scratch," he says. His lips quirk up at the name. "He was my best friend. We grew up in the city together. Left for the desert together." His mouth tightens. "I don't know what happened to him, after I died. I don't know what happened to any of them...."

"Maybe we could find out," Party says. Jet lifts his gaze to Party's, a question in his eyes. They clear their throat. "I mean, uh, most of the killjoys are, y'know,  _ gone, _ but there are a few left. An' there's people around who knew the killjoys afterward. Ghoul's dad was raised by old killjoys.  _ Someone's _ gotta know what happened to your crew. If they survived the fall an' the chaos after, maybe some'a them even had kids or somethin' who could tell ya."

Jet's eyes are wide now. "You think... you think they might have  _ survived?" _

They shift, tucking their legs underneath them and scooting around to face him. "I don't know," they say honestly. "But I think we could find out."

He grins wider than Party's ever seen, and their heart flutters in their chest.

\-----

"Hey, Party," Kobra says, fiddling with the ancient piece of wire he always carries with him. "You seen Jet recently?"

"Yeah, he popped in a few hours ago. Why?"

He nods, glancing around the room. "He around now?"

"No." Party watches him closely. Kobra's always been hard for most people to read, unexpressive and intimidating, but having grown up with him, Party's never had trouble. Right now, Kobra seems nervous, and kinda sketchy. It's the way he usually seems when he's in a crowd of people after a bad couple of days, which is weird, because it's just the two of them right now, and Kobra hasn't had a panic attack in weeks. "What's up?"

Kobra shrugs, bending the wire into a spiral around his finger. "Nothin' much. Just-- could ya come outside with me? I want you to look at somethin' with the car."

Party frowns. "Can't Ghoul do it? He's the one with all the vehicular know-how."

"Just come with me," Kobra sighs, untwisting the wire and putting it in his pocket. He turns and starts walking for the front door, and Party has to scramble to catch up with him.

It's  _ cold _ outside. Party shivers, pulling their thin jacket tighter around themself. The sands lose heat quickly once the sun goes down, and they're glad for the bit of warmth their clothes provide, but they just hope that whatever Kobra's gotta tell them, it doesn't take long.

They walk the few yards to the car, where they can just see Ghoul's silhouette perched on the roof, looking like a goddamn car-gargoyle. A cargoyle.  _ Ha. _

"Okay," Ghoul says, kicking his feet against the car door. "You got Party.  _ Now _ you wanna tell me what's up?"

"What, you don't know either?" That's weird. Kobra usually tells Ghoul everything. Well, he tells  _ Party _ everything, too, but he usually tells Ghoul first.

Ghoul shrugs at them. "He just said it was important."

"I didn't wanna say anything in the diner in case Jet was listening," Kobra explains. "I don't think he can come outside, so--"

"Wait, why the hell don't you want  _ Jet _ knowin' whatever it is you're about to say?!" Jet's practically  _ crew _ now that they're all living--er,  _ existing _ under one roof. And you don't keep secrets from your crew. 

"'Cause I don't think he's  _ supposed _ to know about it," Kobra says.

"What the hell does  _ that _ mean? What the hell are you  _ sayin', _ Kobra Kid?! I'll--"

"If you'd let me  _ talk, _ " Kobra rolls his eyes, "I'd  _ tell _ ya."

Party's mouth snaps closed. They wait as patiently as they can (which isn't very goddamned patient, but  _ whatever, _ they're trying).

"Thank you." Kobra sighs, shakes his head. "Fuckin'  _ cold," _ he mutters under his breath. Then, at a more normal volume, he says, "The Phoenix Witch sent me a message."

Party freezes.  _ "What?" _ they ask, brain whirling. "Kobra, kiddo, what the  _ fuck _ are you  _ talkin' _ about?"

"The Phoenix Witch," he repeats, "sent me a message."

"Oh,  _ shit!" _ Ghoul slides down from the roof of the car, the metal popping back into shape. "Kobes, what the hell?! The Witch  _ seriously _ sent you a message?! Like Destroya talkin' to me in my dream?!"

"Yeah." Kobra gets a fond look on his face as he watches Ghoul bounce around in the sand like an overexcited rabbit. "I mean, I dunno if it's an  _ actual _ message, or just a dream like yours, but it  _ felt _ real." He pauses. "Not real, like,  _ real life. _ Like  _ this. _ Real like... it couldn't  _ not _ be real, I guess." He shakes his head again. "I dunno how to explain it."

"Well, what'd she  _ say?!" _ Ghoul asks.

"She said... uh. Well, it was weird. First she insulted me, then she told me it took me too long to get here. She--"

"She  _ insulted _ you?!" Ghoul sounds  _ excited _ about the fact. "Holy shit!"

"Well." Kobra clears his throat. "She said,  _ 'Hey, dumbass. Took you long enough to find this place.' _ "

Party snorts. "Sounds like a hell of a dream."

"But it  _ wasn't _ a dream," Kobra protests. "I mean, it sort of was. But." He sighs.  _ "Anyway. _ After that, she told me I had to help Jet get outta here."

"Wait," Party shakes their head. "You mean to tell me that the  _ Witch _ wants  _ you _ to, like, send Jet off to the afterlife? Why the hell doesn't she do it herself?"

Kobra shrugs. "She didn't say, an' I woke up pretty much right after that."

"Did she tell you  _ how _ to help Jet?" Ghoul asks, and his tone is changed, more serious now. He's going into research mode. 

"No. Just said we had to free him." Kobra pauses. "I dunno, maybe it  _ was _ just a dream. But... well, if he  _ is _ stuck here, and he can't go to the afterlife for whatever reason... there's gotta be  _ some _ way of helpin' him, right? He can't just be  _ stuck _ here forever."

"He thinks he is," Party says. "But, yeah. If there  _ is _ a way to help him, then I wanna do it."

"Me, too!" Ghoul claps a hand on Party's shoulder and, they assume, on Kobra's. "Shit, guys. Now I'm wonderin' if  _ my _ dream was  _ just a dream, _ or if that was actual fuckin'  _ Destroya  _ talkin' to me! If we've got  _ two fuckin' gods _ tellin' us we're in the right place, somethin' big's  _ gotta _ happen, right?"

Suddenly, Party's stomach feels like it's full of birds. Why the hell would the  _ gods _ care enough about the three of them and Jet to be contacting them and  _ directing _ them?! This is... this is too much. A haunted diner and a hot ghost is one thing, but the fuckin' Phoenix Witch and Destroya?!

They aren't cut out for this sort of thing.

"...tell Jet," Kobra's saying when Party tunes back in. "I think it's a bad idea until we actually know more about what's goin' on."

"Wait," Party says. "You don't want us to tell Jet we're helpin' him?! Why the hell not?!"

"Because if we're wrong and this  _ is _ just a weird-ass dream," Kobra says sternly, "I don't think we should be gettin' his hopes up. What if there's nothin' we can do? It'd suck."

Party can see the logic behind that, but... "How're we gonna find anything out without askin' him?"

"We can still ask him stuff," Ghoul says. "We just gotta be sneaky about it. An' anyway, soon's we know this is actually happenin', we can tell him, yeah? Hey, Party, maybe you'll be the next one to get a vision!"

Party does  _ not _ like the sound of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're slowly learning more about jet's past! and making plans for the future.... 👀
> 
> thank you so much for reading!! if you enjoyed this fic, please fel free to leave kudos or a comment!! i'd LOVE to hear your thoughts!! 💖  
> you can also message me on tumblr [@enby-partypoison](https://enby-partypoison.tumblr.com/) if you'd like! 😄
> 
> have a wonderful day and please take care of yourselves as best you can! ✨🌷✨


	8. Shopkeeper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Party and Ghoul stop by a shop to pick up some food.   
> Jet learns more about just how different life is these days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello, I hope this update finds you well! 💖
> 
> BIIIIIG thank you as always to my friend [Pink](https://hyperthrust.tumblr.com/) and my fiance [Ace](https://funkobraofficial.tumblr.com/) for beta-reading this chapter! ✨
> 
> Please enjoy!! 😘

It was a blessedly cool day, with nothing pressing to do, and Jet was passing the time by laying on the dining room floor and flipping through one of Lime's magazines. Scratch was napping, his head pillowed on Jet's stomach, and every few minutes Jet's free hand would find its way into Scratch's short curls.

He wasn't sure where the rest of the crew was, just that they were all somewhere in or around the diner. He could hear a buzzing from outside that probably meant Sting was working on her legs, probably trying to figure out a way to make them more energy efficient so they wouldn't go through batteries so quick.

Jet turned the page. An advertisement for the latest in BL/ind fashion: an entire collection of boring cuts in neutral colors. He sighed and turned to the next page. He would  _ never _ miss the lack of color and style in the city. As soon as he'd made it out here and discovered the variety of colors and patterns of clothing, he'd been  _ all over _ it. 

He set the magazine down, spread open so he wouldn't lose his place, and carefully sat up, keeping a hand on Scratch's chest to avoid jostling him too much and waking him up. Scratch seemed to always have an almost endless supply of cheerful energy, and Jet didn't want to keep him from charging up that battery. He deserved some rest.

Lifting his hand from Scratch's hair to his own, Jet tugged a lock forward to peer at it. The purple was starting to fade; he'd have to touch it up soon. Maybe today, since they weren't too busy. Did he have any dye left? He'd have to check once Scratch woke up.

"Hey, Star," Neo said from behind the kitchen counter, "you busy?"

Jet's heart leapt in his chest, and he grinned over at him. "Just on pillow duty for Scratch here," he said. "Why, what's up?"

Neo snorted, lips curling into a grin, and he hopped over the counter with the grace of a cat to close the distance between them. "Scratchy always looks so cute when he's sleepin'," he said. "And nothin', just bored. Wanted to do somethin' crazy, paint Newsie's van or steal one o’the Suns' motorcycles or shave my head or somethin'. Wanted some company. If you're busy though I can see if Lime or Sideshow wanna raise hell."

"No, I wanna go!" Jet said, trying to keep his voice down. "Maybe let's not do any property damage against a crew member or steal from a fellow 'joy, though."

"Shavin' my head, then?" Neo ran his hand through his highlighter-green hair, pushing the long strands in the front to cover the shorter strands in the back. "Think Sideshow had the clippers last."

"Aw, don't shave it  _ all _ off. You know you always regret it when the front gets too short."

"Yeah, guess so, but I'm in the mood to do somethin'  _ impulsive.  _ You're lucky I came lookin' for you instead'a just runnin' out the door." He laughed, a loud cackle that caused Scratch to shift and mumble in his sleep.

"Wanna help me dye my hair?" Jet asked. He tried to ignore the way Neo's words made him feel.  _ Neo came looking for  _ him _ instead of just going through with his impulse. _ That meant something. Fuck, that  _ meant something. _

"Hell yeah!" Neo pumped both fists in the air. "Aw shit, Star, can I shave somethin' into the side after? I got some--  _ oh, _ shit, do we have bleach?! We can give your hair a bunch'a different colors, make your head look like those crazy shirts you wear! I got some yellow an' green, think Newsie's got some blue left! Fuck, I can see it now, it'll look  _ so good!" _

"Let's stick with purple for now," Jet said. "You know I don't wanna cut or bleach any'a this." He'd been growing his hair out since he came to the desert, and now, five years later, it was thick and curly, a little longer than shoulder length. He appreciated the crazy things other people did with their hair, like Neo and his constant bleaching and dyeing and shaving the back and sides, or Kiwi Blast and his high spiked mohawk, but Jet was happy with his long, curly, sometimes purple hair, and he didn't see much reason to change it.

Neo sighed, loud and exaggerated, but Jet could still see the way he smiled. "Okay,  _ okay, _ just purple," he said. "But you're helpin'  _ me _ shave my head after, yeah?"

"Sounds perfect."

\-----

After sleeping for a few hours, through the coldest part of the night, Party again wakes up to Jet's purple glow washing over them.

They squint, then rub their eyes and sit up with a groan. "Fuck," they say. "You're cold."

"Sorry." Jet lowers his body down to sit on the edge of the bed. He doesn't sink through it, but he doesn't disturb the covers at all, either.

"How do you do that?" Party asks, tugging the blanket up to their shoulders. It's early enough that the heat of the day hasn't quite started setting in yet. 

"Do what?"

"Sit on things. You didn't do that until, like, today." Not that they've spent a ton of time with him, of course. Maybe he does it all the time, and they just didn't notice until now.

"Oh." Jet looks down at himself, or maybe at the bed visible through his legs. "I don't know, I just... think about it, I guess." He lifts his gaze back to theirs. "What are your plans for today?"

"Gotta sort through more of the junk piled up in here," Party says. "You wanna help? You can tell me what's trash an' if there's anything else you wanna keep." Party had put Cat Scratch's mask on the shelf in their closet, with Jet's jacket. Clearly it's important to Jet; they wouldn't want to trade it, even if they  _ didn't _ have a ton of other trading materials. Once the diner's cleaned up a little more, they want to set something up to display them, and any other sentimental items they find from Jet's crew.

"Sure!" Jet lifts up off the bed and toward the door, taking his chill with him. "Are you going to make breakfast this morning? I'd like to help with that, too, if I can."

"Nah, that's Ghoul's job this mornin'," Party says apologetically, pulling the blanket down and swinging their feet down to the floor. "If you want, we can go in there and I can direct 'im for ya, though."

"Yeah?" Jet grins over his shoulder at them. "Sounds fun! I haven't really seen his cookin' style yet. You said he was the best cook of the three of you, right? He prob'ly doesn't need my help, but yeah. I'd like to watch, at least." 

Party makes their way over to the door and opens it into the hallway. "You don't have to wait for me to do that," they say as the two of them head for the kitchen. "Ghoul wouldn't mind if you just went and hung out with him, y'know."

"Yeah, well... I dunno. I just feel  _ weird _ about watching people when they don't know I'm there."

"I mean, you give off like, an  _ aura _ of cold. I'm pretty sure he'd know you were there."

"Yeah, but I can't  _ talk _ to him." Jet sighs. "You're the only person who can see  _ or _ hear me. I kinda need you there to translate."

Party hums in response. That  _ is _ a problem. "Maybe Kobes can figure out some kinda device or somethin' that'd let you talk to the others. He's pretty great at techy stuff," they tell him proudly.

"Hey, Party! And Jet? Unless you're talkin' to yourself," Ghoul calls when the two of them step into the kitchen (well, Party steps; Jet just floats through the wall). 

"Yeah, Jet's here. He wants to watch ya cook."

Ghoul preens at that, holding his chin up. "Hell yeah he does! C'mere, dude, I'm makin' quesadillas."

"You have  _ cheese?" _ Jet zips over to the stove Ghoul's cooking at, peering into the skillet. "Fuck, I haven't had cheese since I left the city! Wait, is cheese super common now?"

"Uh, not really," Party says, hopping up to sit on the counter a couple of feet from Ghoul's workstation. "He was askin' how common cheese is," they tell Ghoul.

"Goats aren't hard to raise," Ghoul says, "but if you don't live super close to a farm, the milk'll go bad before it gets to ya." He flips the quesadilla in the pan. "We haven't had cheese in a few months, since the last time we stopped in a good-sized town. Deadfall Drac's got  _ two _ farmin' communities nearby! We can have milk an' cheese  _ all _ the fuckin' time!"

"Goats, huh?" Jet lowers himself down to sit on the counter on the opposite side of Ghoul. "Back in my day, we got milk from cows. An' I think BL/ind synthesized most of the cheap stuff, anyway."

Party snorts. "You sound like Ghoul's grandthem," they say. " _ 'Back in my day.' _ Heh."

Jet blinks over at them. "Grand-what?"

"Grandthem? Uh, y'know, grandparent...?"

"Xe's pretty fuckin' cool, Party, don't go makin' fun'a Grandthem Sand Tick," Ghoul says, sliding the finished quesadilla onto a plate. 

"Oh, like... a grandparent? Gender neutral?" Jet's face lights up. "Shit, yeah, I guess that'd be pretty common now, huh? Damn... when I was alive, I don't think any of us even had  _ gay _ grandparents, let alone  _ openly nonbinary. _ This is so fuckin'  _ cool." _

Party laughs. "Oh, shit, really? Fuck, I get excited when I meet other nonbinary people, but like, we're not exactly  _ rare, _ y'know?"

"Fuck, I hate bein' outta the loop," Ghoul says, slicing off a piece of cheese from the wheel. "What're you guys talkin' about?"

"Jet's not used to old nonbinary people," Party says. They reach out to snag the finished quesadilla, but Ghoul smacks their hand away. "Hey,  _ ow!" _

"That's for  _ Kobes!" _ Ghoul says. "He went outside 'cause the bangin' an' clangin' in here got too much for 'im. But this one's  _ his, _ m'kay, burned it just the way he likes it." 

"I'll take it to 'im," Party says, hopping off the counter and reaching for the plate again. "Where is he? At the car? Workin' on the 'lectricity? Chillin' somewhere?" 

Ghoul shrugs. "Said he was just gonna hang out, but you know him. He's prob’ly workin' on  _ somethin'. _ Oh, hey, we're almost outta beans an' cornmeal," he adds as Party's walking away. "Wanna go to the market with me? Think Kobes is gonna wanna stick around here today."

"Hell  _ yeah," _ Party says. A quick trip to the market means they'll get to check out the town a little more,  _ and _ they don't have to clean! "I'm drivin', though. When d'you wanna get goin'?"

"After breakfast? Before it gets too hot?"

"Perfect!" Party grins and heads out of the kitchen. "Don't talk Jet's ear off while I'm gone!" they call. "Poor guy can't defend himself without me around!"

"Fuck you," Ghoul calls back cheerfully, and Party hears Jet chuckle quietly in response.

Today's gonna be a good day.

\-----

"The market's not  _ open _ today?!" Party's hands tighten on the steering wheel as they peer out at the spot the market had been just a few days ago. Where earlier there had been rows of tents and blankets spread across the ground, now there's just an open expanse of sand and tufts of spiky grass. There's two tents and a car parked a few dozen yards off the road, but it's pretty obvious that they aren't merchants; just travellers camping out. 

Ghoul groans. "Well, where the fuck are we s'posed to get food now?"

"We're not, like,  _ out  _ of food, right?"

"Nah, we got stuff, just not all the staples." He shrugs. "We'll be fine. Meals're just gonna be weird for a couple days, nothin' we're not used to."

Party nods. Food's easy enough to get ahold of, but when you travel a lot, there are long stretches of time when you can't stop by a market for fresh food. They've all learned how to live off jerky and the occasional prickly pear. "Oh, hey," they say as they're struck by a thought. "The trader next to my spot, what was his name? Annabelle! He told me there's a permanent shop in town. We could head there an' see what they've got."

"Fuck, there's a permanent shop here?" Ghoul perks up.  _ "And _ a market this size? Fuck yeah, let's go check it out!"

__ Party turns the car around and heads into the town of Deadfall Drac. "He said it was run by the same person who runs that big motel. What was his name? ...Chow Mein? I think?" They shake their head. "Somethin' like that. What all're we after? Cornmeal, beans...?"

Ghoul rattles off the grocery list to them, and Party does their best to memorize it. The few times the three of them have had to trade with a permanent shop, they'd discovered that it's  _ not _ a good idea for Ghoul to handle that. People who run permanent shops are almost always looking to profit rather than to just do a straight-across trade, and Ghoul  _ hates _ that. Party's no fan, either, but they've always been able to talk the shopkeepers into taking a little less than they otherwise would, and Ghoul... well, Ghoul usually ends up getting them kicked out.

They park just off the road and grab their bag of trade goods, making their way to the entrance. The door's been painted much more recently than the rest of the building, a bright red with designs and words painted in other colors. Party's always loved the color red, even thought about dyeing their hair that color for a while. Unfortunately, hair dye's pretty hard to find, and their trade goods have always limited them to getting only necessities, so they never had the opportunity.

"Says the check-in desk's in here," Ghoul says, "and the shop." He pushes the door open.  _ "Damn." _

"What?" Party steps in behind him, and then blinks as they catch sight of the interior.

This is undoubtedly a  _ shop, _ with shelves of goods spread out across the wide room, blankets and bags and tents and things hanging on the walls. Their first thought is that they've never seen so  _ much stuff _ outside of a market. Their second thought is that three or four dozen people could sleep in this space, and that it's kind of a waste to use  _ all _ of this space for  _ stuff. _ But, well, if the market doesn't happen every day, Party supposes it's a good thing it's here.

Most shops Party's been in, there was a table or something set up near the front door, and you had to tell the shopkeeper what you were after and what you had to trade. Then the shopkeeper would go into another room and get your things for you. But they can't even  _ see _ the shopkeeper from here.

"How the hell does this work?" Party murmurs to Ghoul, but Ghoul just shrugs, walking straight in and down one of the aisles, poking at a canvas bag of something on one of the shelves. "Ghoul!" they hiss, quickly following after him before he can break something and get them kicked out.

"Welcome," comes a voice from somewhere to the left, and Party freezes. "If you need assistance, please let me know."

"Uh." Party steps back out of the aisle and looks in the direction of the voice; up against the far wall is a counter built into the wall, with a door behind it. They move closer, dodging around a stack of crates, and then the shopkeeper finally comes into view.

He's middle aged, black hair streaked with gray, skin a shade or two paler than their own. He's seated behind the counter, a zine spread open in front of him, wearing what seems to be a good-quality suit. He has a shrewd look in his eye, and Party knows this is gonna be tough.

They grin, nodding their head respectfully as they approach. "Hey. Name's Party Poison. They/them. My friend an' I're lookin' to make a couple trades."

"Tommy Chow Mein," the shopkeeper says. "Do you have any money? Or are you only bartering?"

"We've got a little money if that's more acceptable," Party says. "But we'd prefer to trade. We've got good-quality clothing, should be enough to cover what we're after." 

"Let me see the clothing first," Tommy Chow Mein says, and Party shrugs the bag off their shoulder, opening and pulling out a sweater. They hand it to him, and he looks it over with a keen eye, tugging at the seams and running his fingers over the fabric for a few moments before nodding and handing it back. "This is acceptable. Excellent quality, especially seeing as it's pre-Better Living make." He tilts his head up just slightly, studying Party. They think he's going to say something, ask them where they got it maybe, but instead he just asks, "What are you after? Food? Toiletries?" He taps his finger on the zine in front of him. "Reading material?"

"Just food," they say. "Er--I haven't seen a shop setup like this before. Do I tell you what we're after, or--?"

"I already grabbed it all," Ghoul says from Party's right, and dumps an armful of fabric bags on the counter. He glares at Tommy Chow Mein, and Party swallows, bracing for the worst; but he doesn't say anything else, thank  _ Destroya. _

Tommy Chow Mein eyes all the bags. "Only food?" he asks, and carefully lifts each bag up to feel it and weigh it in his hands. After he's counted them, he nods. "The sweater," he says, "and one more, if you have others of similar quality."

Party passes their bag over, and Tommy Chow Mein examines the three remaining articles of clothing Party had brought along. Two clothing items in exchange for two weeks' worth of staples for three people isn't actually a bad deal; Party's dealt with shopkeepers who tried to take everything they  _ had _ for less food than that.

Tommy's just selected a second item to trade and handed Party's bag back to them when they hear the door open again, and Party glances in that direction to see two kids walk in. They look to be young teenagers, and they look near  _ identical, _ so they're probably twins. 

They quickly disappear between two shelves, so Party turns back to the transaction at hand, filling the rest of their bag with the food Ghoul'd picked up.

"Pleasure doin' business with ya," Party says, hefting their bag back onto their shoulder, and Tommy Chow Mein nods to them.

"Sticking around these parts long?" he asks, and Party nods.

"Permanently, we hope."

Tommy Chow Mein leans forward to say something else, but before he can, one of the kids reappears, slipping a thick book onto the counter.

"'Scuse me," the kid says. "How much aloe'll you take for this book?"

Tommy grunts, looking displeased at being interrupted. "Don't need aloe," he says. "Got more'n enough stored up. What else ya got?"

The kid scowls, and Party steps away, tugging on Ghoul's shirt sleeve to bring him with them. They don't really want to get in the middle of this.

"Pleurisy-root," the kid says. 

Tommy sighs. "I got medicinal plants comin' out my  _ ass, _ kid."

"But it's all we have," the second kid says. "Please."

Ghoul looks up at Party, eyebrows raised, and they sigh. "Yeah, yeah," they mutter, and turn back to the counter. "Mr. Chow Mein," they say, setting their bag back on the counter. "I'd be interested in makin' another trade."

\-----

The kids introduce themselves as Acro Batty and Jelly Beans when Party hands them the book outside of the motel.

"You live around here?" Party asks, looking them over. They can't be older than sixteen, which reminds Party that  _ they _ were sixteen when they started travelling, too. Too young.

One of them--Jelly Beans--shakes xyr head. "Just travelling," xe says. Xe clutches the book against xyr chest. "Seriously, we can't thank you enough."

"Don't mention it," Party says. "We've got more than enough tradin' materials that we won't have to worry about a couple things."

"What's the book about, anyway?" Ghoul asks, leaning in close to try and catch a glimpse of the cover. Party's not surprised. Ghoul's always loved researching new, weird topics whenever he can find the opportunity, the goddamn  _ clown. _

__ Jelly Beans holds the book out for him to see. "It's a medical history book," xe says. "Pre-Better Living publication."

"So you two are into, like, medical stuff? Medicine, that kinda thing?" Party asks.

Acro Batty shakes his head. "Well, xe is," he says, "but mostly we just like knowing things, you know?"

"Oh, I know," Ghoul says, and the two of them share some kind of weird, knowing smile.

"We collect books," Jelly Beans says, "and try to put the knowledge to good use. Share the knowledge, when we can. ...Speaking of,  _ you _ wouldn't happen to have any books you'd be willing to trade, do you? Or even just lend out?"

"Uh..." Party shakes their head. "Sorry, we're not really book people." Ghoul has notebooks full of things he's written or copied over the years, but with the limited space travelling around in a car provides, he had to leave all his books with his parents.

Acro Batty seems disappointed. "Oh, that's fine. Most people aren't really 'book people,' anyway." He pauses, then draws closer to his sibling. "Beans and I will be here for a couple of weeks, I think. If you think of anything we can do to repay you, come find us around the market plot."

"Will do," Ghoul says. "Good luck with your book-huntin'."

"Thanks." Jelly Beans smiles at them both, clutching the book to xyr chest again, and xe looks  _ so young. _ Too young to be travelling with just xyr brother like this.

They don't need help, Party tells themself on the drive back to the diner. Those kids are doing  _ fine _ on their own. Probably. Just like Party and Kobra had done fine on  _ their _ own before meeting Ghoul and his family.

Which means not really  _ fine _ at all.

\-----

"--and then they asked if  _ we _ had any books." Party's telling Jet about their trip while they sift through the junk in the dining area. "Of course, books're pretty hard to find, anyway. All we've got is Ghoul's notebooks, an' I don't think  _ that's _ the kinda thing those kids are into."

"Are books really hard to find?" Jet asks. He's hovering in the corner of the room, peering down at the piles of things as Party moves them around. "Don't you have a travelling library, at least?"

"A what?" They toss another balled-up piece of paper in the tinder box. "Nah, not that  _ I've _ ever heard of. There's a few people who collect books, like those kids do, but no one really, like,  _ travels around _ lettin' people read their books. Seems like a waste'a batteries."

"I mean, books weren't really all that common when I was alive, either," Jet says, floating closer to them. "But they were important. BL/ind wiped a lot of history from the city, and the only way you could find out the truth was through reading. Or talking to someone who'd read about it."

Party hums in reply, picking up a jagged, dusty piece of metal and squinting at it. It doesn't  _ look _ like much, but maybe Ghoul or Kobra could find a use for it. They toss it in the  _ keep _ box. "That kinda thing mostly gets spread by word of mouth," they say. "If you're lucky enough to grow up in a town or stronghold, you'll prob'ly find someone who can teach you more than just the basics, but otherwise...." They shrug.

"Where did you grow up?" Jet asks. "Ghoul said he was raised on a farm. ...I'd like to see a farm, someday."

Well, Party thinks to themself, if the three of them can ever figure out how to help him, like the Witch apparently wants, maybe he  _ can _ see one. To Jet, they say, "Grew up outside of a community with Kobra and our parents. Didn't get much of a chance to learn from anyone else, since the only time we ever saw anyone else was market days." 

"That must've been lonely," Jet says. "Can I ask...?"

Party waits a few moments, continuing to work, but when Jet doesn't continue, they look up at him again. "Hm? Ask what?"

"Well." He frowns a little. "I don't wanna upset you, so you don't have to answer if you don't wanna. I was just wondering... why you don't travel with your parents..."

Party pauses, considering how to reply. They straighten up, dusting off their pant legs. 

"Sorry, I shouldn't've brought it up," Jet says before they can formulate a response. "I know family situations were tough when I was alive, and it stands to reason they'd still be tough, so if it's hard to talk about or you don't  _ want _ to talk about, it's fine, I shouldn't have asked, I--"

"Whoa, whoa,  _ whoa!" _ Party puts a hand up, holding a finger in front of Jet's cold lips. He falls silent, staring at them. They drop their hand. "Jet, it's  _ fine. _ It's not that big a deal." They fold their arms over their chest, letting their head fall to one side. "We left 'em when I was sixteen an' Kobra was fourteen," they say. 

Jet blinks. "Oh. ...Can I ask why? I mean, is it...  _ common _ to leave your family at that age?"

"No. Most people don't leave the place they're born until they're in their twenties. Some never do."

"Oh. Then...?"

They sigh, trying to think of how to word it. It's not like it's a  _ secret, _ or anything, but.... "Our parents... weren't the best," they say eventually. "Kobra's had anxiety since he was a kid, and they never handled it well. They also, uh, had a problem with my gender." They shrug. "So, soon's we found the car and got it fixed up enough, we left."

Jet's quiet for a long moment, his eyebrows drawn together as he stares off into space. "Sorry," he says. "I just-- I mean, I'm sorry that happened to you, obviously, but I thought that nonbinary people were... well, common? And accepted? That's the impression I got from you guys, I mean."

"No, yeah, there's-- I mean, you're hard-pressed to find assholes who believe in that old 'only two genders' thing, but they're out here." Party shifts again, bending down to start in on another pile of junk and avoid Jet's gaze. "I dunno why, but our parents were really strict on tellin' us that everyone's just... whatever gender they were announced as when they were born, ya know? Like, they're fine with people being gay, or straight, or bi, but if you try to go by pronouns they don't expect you to..." They shake their head, pulling an old, grease-stained rag from the pile. "Those bastards would prob'ly try to misgender Ghoul if they ever met him an' found out  _ he _ was trans, an' then tell Kobra he's not  _ really _ gay because of it. Fuckers." They throw the rag in the  _ keep _ box with more force than necessary.

"I'm so sorry," Jet says, and Party feels an icy shock in their shoulder as he reaches a hand out to them, fingers ghosting over the skin of their shoulder. Party looks up and meets his eyes, noting the empathy in the way he holds his mouth. "The killjoys fought for a life where everyone could live their lives as they were meant to. I hate that any old bigotry survived the years like that. You deserve better."

And even though Party's forgotten most of the things their parents said to them, even though they've barely even  _ thought _ about them in years, the sincerity in Jet's voice makes unexpected tears well up in their eyes. They quickly wipe them away with their wrist, but they know Jet's seen them. "Thanks," they say quietly. And then, at a more normal volume, "Seriously, though, my parents and like,  _ maybe _ one or two other people are the only ones I've ever met that're like that.  _ They're _ the weird ones, an' since me an' Kobra left,  _ everything's _ been better, ya know?"

Jet smiles then, wide, and drops his hand from their shoulder. They miss the chill immediately. "Good," he says. "I'm glad I didn't die for nothing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How's that for an ending line? 😘 Also hope you enjoyed some more NEONFUCK and oc content lmao!!
> 
> Thanks for reading!! Feel free to leave kudos or a comment! I'd love to hear your thoughts!! 💖 Or message me on tumblr! [@enby-partypoison](https://enby-partypoison.tumblr.com/)
> 
> A quick note: The next chapter will be the last for a while, as I'm having trouble giving this fic the attention it deserves. I'll be putting it on hiatus until I've finished writing Playground Eyes.  
> Thank you for understanding 💖


	9. Clowning Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Party and Jet discover a hidden cache in the diner.  
> Deadfall Drac might be more mysterious than they'd previously thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello! I hope this update finds you well! 💖
> 
> BIG thank you as always to my friend [Pink](https://hyperthrust.tumblr.com/) and my fiance [Ace](https://funkobraofficial.tumblr.com/) for beta-reading this!! 
> 
> Please enjoy 😘

"Hey, Sting, Jet!" Cat Scratch poked his head into the kitchen, a wide smile stretching across his face. "Someone spotted the clown gang a few miles out, said they were headed this way!"

Jet lifted his head up from where he was studying an old cookbook. "Whoa, what,  _ seriously?" _ The clown gang was a traveling killjoy crew that was focused on spreading joy and making sure other 'joys, especially those farther from other settlements, had access to any information they might need. Jet had only seen them once before, a few months after he and Scratch had left the city, but he remembered it well.

"Shit," Sting said, rolling away from the kitchen counter and over to Scratch. "We got anything to give 'em?"

"Only book we've got's that cookbook of Jet's," Scratch said. "And I don't think he's gonna wanna part with that anytime soon."

"Yeah,  _ definitely _ not," Jet said, carefully dog-earing the page and stashing the book in one of the cupboards. "I don't think they need a cookbook, anyway. That's not exactly like,  _ history _ or  _ medicine _ or anything important like that."

"Guess not," Scratch said with a shrug. "Anyway, whatever, I wanna catch 'em before they pass us by or some shit! Where's my legs?"

"Newsie had 'em last I saw." Jet helped her maneuver her chair through the doorway. "Think they were chargin' 'em. Where's everybody else?"

"Newsie went out to the road as soon as we heard they were comin'. They left your legs in the dinin' room, Sting." Scratch was practically bouncing as he waited for the two of them to get ready. It was pretty fuckin' cute, and Jet couldn't blame him for his excitement. The clown gang coming this way was a great opportunity to get their hands on some new books, or learn something new,  _ and _ get a show out of it.

"Lime an' Show went out on a supply run," Scratch continued as Sting went to go grab her legs. "Hope they get back before the clowns leave."

"And Neo?" Jet asked, trying his best to sound casual. 

It didn't work, of course, because Scratch sent him an amused look, eyebrow raised and smirk prominent on his face. "Mx. Neonfuck," Scratch said, elongating each syllable to make Jet damn well  _ sure _ he knew about Jet's crush on their crewmate, "headed out with Newsie. He'll meet us out by the road. Now can we  _ go, _ please?!"

\-----

The clown gang traveled as a caravan, with several vehicles of varying sizes hauling all of their supplies. Unlike most crews with only a single vehicle or two, they had no need for secrecy. BL/ind had seemingly learned the hard way not to attack their caravan directly.

There were ten members of the gang here today, and Jet recognized all of them, though he didn't really remember their names.

"Welcome to the show," one of the clowns, tall and fat with a wide-brimmed top hat atop his head, addressed Jet's crew and the few other killjoys who'd made it in time. "We have quite a treat planned for you today." He twirled the long, thin cane in his right hand, gesturing toward a figure dressed in clothing colorful enough to rival Jet's own, balanced atop a one-wheeled... thing. What was it called again? A unicycle?

Jet's attention was pulled away from all the glitz and glam, however, when he noticed Neo slip away from the small crowd and duck behind one of the vehicles. It wouldn't be all that odd, if it weren't for the fact that there was a  _ show _ going on, a show that Neo had seemed just as excited for but was now abandoning.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Jet moved away from the crowd himself, just enough that he could see behind the vehicle a little bit.

Neo was seemingly having a conversation with someone. One of the clowns, judging by his face paint and the several colorful bowling pins and knives strapped to his person. 

Passing on information, maybe? Seeking a deal of some kind? Jet would ask him about it later. For now, he returned to Scratch's side to watch the clowns perform.

\-----

Party's clearing away the last of the debris from one corner of the dining room when they accidentally rip a chunk of cracked linoleum from the floor and discover a door in the wood beneath.

"Hey, Jet," they call over their shoulder, wiping their hands on their jeans and kneeling beside the square outline in the floor, "you know anything about this?"

The chill at their back intensifies as Jet draws closer, and then he exclaims,  _ "Oh! _ Shit, I'd forgotten all about this! I wonder if it's all still in there...?"

"This is somethin' real good then, huh?" Party asks, eyeing the outline. The wood looks to be too tightly fit for Party to slip their fingers into the crack and pull it open. There might be a piece of metal somewhere around here that's thin and sturdy enough to help them pry it up, though. 

"Yeah! You said you were lookin' for books, right?" Jet's hand appears in their vision, followed by the rest of him as he traces the outline with his fingertip. "Unless they moved it after I died, this should be  _ full _ of books."

"Seriously?!" Party straightens up quickly, their shoulder accidentally passing through some part of Jet with a jolt of ice. "Agh--! Sorry. Shit, help me find somethin' to open this up with--"

"We always used a screwdriver," Jet says, zipping past them to peer into other corners of the room. "Like, a flathead--"

"Kobes prob'ly has one," Party says. "Hang on, his tools are--"

They find Kobra's toolbox in the kitchen, but there doesn't seem to be anything thin enough to fit into the crevice between the boards. 

"D'you think Ghoul'd be pissed if I used one of his knives?" Party asks. "He's got the knives he uses for cleanin' animals! Nah, yeah, he won't be pissed," they reason with themself, sliding over to lift the knife with the longest, thinnest blade off the counter. "We're gettin'  _ books. _ Motherfucker  _ loves _ books."

The knife fits easily in the space, and with Jet directing them to the best place to insert the knife, they lever the square of wood up enough that they're able to pull it out of the way. the space beneath it is dark and dusty, and Party's not quite sure they want to reach down there. Just because there's not a lot of animal activity up here doesn't mean there's not deadly spiders down there.

Jet reaches into the hole, the soft glow of his hand washing over the dusty contents of the hiding spot.

"Oh, shit!" Party exclaims, carefully reaching in now that they can actually  _ see. _ "There  _ are _ books in here!"

"Neo and Jim's secret stash," Jet says proudly, watching as Party pulls book after book from beneath the floorboards. "Looks like BL/ind never found it. Guess that means my whole crew wasn't compromised, at least."

"Who're Neo and Jim?" Party asks, feeling around in the space for the final book. "Other killjoys?"

"Yeah! Neo-- Neonfuck, that's his full name--he's-- well, he  _ was- _ -one of my crew members." Jet's expression softens, his eyes focused on something Party can't see. "I hope he lived a good life."

They watch him. What's the story with Jet and this Neonfuck guy? There's clearly something there, but he doesn't offer up any information past that, not like he had with Cat Scratch. Maybe he was Jet's datemate? He doesn't seem too sad right now, though. Just... thoughtful. Peaceful? Party doesn't want to push him to make him think about his lost crew anymore. They change the subject.

"What  _ are _ these books, anyway?" they ask, wiping the thick, gritty dust from the cover of the book in their hand and squinting at the title. " _ 'A... Something Something of the... Something Desert?'" _

"They're all history books, I think," Jet says, seemingly shaking himself out of his memories and floating back to Party's side, peering over the top of their head.  _ "That's 'A Natural History of the Mojave Desert.'  _ ...Uh. Not to be rude, Party, but... can you read?"

They lift their head to look at him, confused. "Yeah, a little," they say. "Obviously. Not as much as Ghoul can, though. He went out of his way to fuckin'  _ master _ readin' and he doesn't even use it as a marketable skill!" They snort.

"Uh," Jet says, and his eyebrows draw together on his ghostly face, creases forming on his forehead. His confusion  _ (why the hell is he  _ confused?) is pretty fuckin' cute, honestly. "So you don't  _ read?" _

They roll their eyes. "Do I  _ look _ like a clown to you?" Party's pretty proud of themself for learning to recognize the alphabet and a handful of common words, but they have no reason to learn more than that, especially with Ghoul around. "Wait, did  _ everybody _ read when Better Living was around?"

"Yes." Jet blinks. "It's-- People  _ don't _ read, now?"

"Ghoul reads," Party says. "Why's it such a big deal? It's not exactly the most useful skill, y'know?"

"You talkin' 'bout me in here?" Ghoul's voice comes from the front door, and Party glances over their shoulder at him. "Hey, Jet!"

"Hey," Jet says absently, still staring at Party.

"He says hey," Party tells Ghoul. "C'mere! Look what me an' Jet found under the floor!"

Ghoul doesn't need any more encouragement. He rushes over and immediately scoops one of the books from the floor. "' _ Sowing Seeds in the Desert!' _ Oh shit, my parents had this same book back on the farm!" He picks up another one. " _ 'Legends from Mexico.' _ Damn! How long've these been here?!"

"Since Jet was alive." Party stands up, brushing dust off their pants. "Look over 'em, huh? Whatever you don't wanna keep we can take to those kids."

"Oh yeah!" Ghoul's already got his nose buried in the old book of legends. "I wanna talk to those kids again before they leave. You don't see a lot of book people around often."

"Things have really changed, huh?" Jet says, more to himself than to anyone else.

\-----

Kobra won't talk about his latest project, some kind of intricate techy thing he's working on in his and Ghoul's bedroom, and Party has a feeling it's because it's a secret from  _ Jet, _ not from them or from Ghoul.

Which means it's gotta have something to do with that "message" from the Phoenix Witch, right? 

"I don't have enough power," is all Kobra will tell them when they ask about it. "I can't get it to do what I need to without more power, but it drains batteries way too fast, and I can't charge enough of 'em at once to get it to work." He sticks a little bundle of wires between his teeth, which Party is pretty sure isn't the best idea when working with batteries, but what do they know? Nothing about tech!

"So you need more charges at once?" they ask. "Or d'you need more actual  _ batteries?" _

"Got more'n enough batteries," he mumbles around the wires, fiddling with the little machine he's got sitting on top of the dresser. "Solar panel's not chargin' 'em as fast as I need 'em, an' we don't have enough full ones in between."

They roll their eyes. "Charges," they say again, drawing out the syllables. "You can just  _ say _ you need more charges. I made a deal with a runner at the market the other day. Where's the empty batteries?"

Kobra points them toward the stack of batteries in the corner of the room. There's three car batteries, which are usually used as the backups for their car, of course, but can power anything else, too; a handful of mini batteries, which are used to power most of the small techy things Kobra likes; and about fifteen regular batteries which power anything else they might have need for. They used to only have five of these, but Kobra and Ghoul must have gotten a good deal on them at the market.

Party stacks the batteries into a box and carries them to the front door, setting it on the floor before looking around the room.

The dining room's looking much more open now, with way less clutter. It's still filthy and grimy, but it's nowhere near as decrepit as it was when they'd first found this place a few weeks ago.

"You headin' to town?" Ghoul asks from the booth he's claimed as his own.

"Yeah," Party says, stepping away from the box of batteries to look Ghoul in the face more easily. "Why? You need somethin'?"

"Take these books to those kids we saw at the shop, will ya?" Ghoul points his favorite pen toward a stack of books on the edge of the table. "Already read those ones. See if they want any of 'em, huh? An', here--" he waves a slip of paper at them, and Party pockets it without bothering to try and read any of it. "That's a list of the other books we got. See if they wanna read any of 'em. They gotta come here to do it, though, 'cause I'm not done with 'em yet."

"What am I, your own personal runner?" Party rolls their eyes, but they don't actually have an objection to anything Ghoul's said. They wanna go check on those kids again, anyway. May as well give them some of these old books while they're at it.

They carry the books and the batteries out to the car. It's late morning now, the desert quickly heating up. Hopefully they can get their errands finished before long, because they do  _ not _ want to risk being out at the hottest part of the day.

Before they take off for Deadfall Drac, they take one last glance at the diner, but they don't see Jet's telltale glow in any of the windows.

Jet hasn't tried to leave the diner since that market day, always vanishing before Party can even  _ ask _ him if we wants to come. They hope that they can figure something out soon, some way that he can see the town and the people without... what? Without feeling scared, nervous? Jet's a  _ ghost, _ and no one can see him but  _ Party. _ Surely  _ that's _ not the reason he's been sticking around the diner, right?

Well, whatever. They'll figure it out eventually.

  
  


\-----

The station Show Pony had told Party about really  _ isn't _ that hard to find. The "antenna" ae'd mentioned is certainly more dish-shaped than the pole-like radio antennae Party was used to, but it's still recognizable as such. The building itself is located just outside of what Party would consider the town proper, closer to the cliffs in the distance.

They can see the dish-shaped antenna perched atop a fairly small shack that's clearly made out of bits and pieces of other buildings, with different types and thicknesses of wood, metal, and plastic making up the walls and roof. It's a hodgepodge of colors, covered in graffiti. Most of it  _ must _ predate the fall of Better Living, because Party doesn't even want to  _ think _ about how expensive all that paint would have been.

They park the Trans Am and carefully approach the building with their box of batteries tucked under one arm, glancing around for anyone who might be nearby, but the area around the shack seems pretty empty. As they get closer, they notice that the windows are made of some kind of old plastic. It looks opaque from here, but it seems odd to put something besides glass in your window if you're not just going to board over it.

Party sets the box down and taps on the door, listening. They can hear voices on the other side, but nothing they can really make out. There's a rolling sound, like wheels on wood, and then the door opens and Party is once again face-to-face with Show Pony.

Ae grins when ae recognizes them. "Why, if it isn't  _ darling _ Party Poison!" ae purrs, leaning against the door frame. "Come to make good on our deal, hm? Or maybe you're just here to see me?"

They laugh, smiling back. "Unfortunately, I'm just here to get some batteries charged," they say apologetically. 

Show Pony huffs a little and rolls aer eyes, but Party can tell it's mainly for show. "I thought as much," ae says as ae straightens up. "Bring 'em in, I'll hook 'em up for ya." 

Ae turns and skates--yes, ae's still wearing aer roller skates--back inside, motioning for Party to follow aer, so they quickly scoop up the box and step inside.

The inside of the shack is hot and crowded, not with people but with  _ things, _ with  _ machines. _ A patched-up, ratty couch sits in the middle of the room, with a small table covered in papers and dishes and scraps of fabric. Stacks of boxes line the walls, and Party realizes that the plastic windows are actually translucent, bringing orange-tinted light into the room. 

There are dozens of radios of all shapes and sizes inside, too. Several of them are on, tuned to different stations so that the music and the voices of the DJs seem to battle for airspace. Party and Kobra used to have a radio, stolen a year or so ago. Maybe they should look into getting a new one soon. That would be a good way for Jet to get caught up on desert life, too!

There's a desk pushed up against one wall with several other machines and techy stuff set up on and around it, things Party's never seen before but that Kobra could probably identify with a glance. They recognize the microphone and what looks like a radio transceiver, but everything else is just a confusing mix of buttons and dials and mysteriously-blinking lights.

"Sugar," Show Pony says, startling Party so much they nearly drop the box in their arms, "I  _ know _ it's all  _ very _ exciting in here, but I can't charge up your batteries 'til you hand 'em over."

"Right, right, uh, here!" Face heating up, Party hurriedly passes the box over to aer, who skates over to a mess of wires in a corner of the room and starts slotting the batteries into chargers.

A door Party had barely noticed earlier opens just then, and an older man with deep brown skin and dark facial hair rolls into the room in a power chair. He stops just clear of the doorway, watching Party for a moment, and then he looks over at Show Pony, raising an eyebrow. "An' who's this here?" he asks.

"Oh, this is that person I was telling you about, the one who moved into that old diner!" Show Pony says, spinning toward them both. "Party Poison, this is Dr. Death-Defying! You may have heard his sweet, sultry voice on the radio, hm?"

"Oh, Party Poison." Dr. Death-Defying, who does indeed have a very nice voice, albeit one Party doesn't recognize, turns his full attention to them. "How long you been stayin' at that diner now?"

"Uh." Party thinks for a moment. "A couple weeks? It hasn't been too long. We're still pretty new here."

Dr. Death-Defying's eyebrows shoot up, almost to his hairline. "Two  _ weeks?" _ he asks incredulously. "An' you've been stayin' there the whole time?"

"Uh, yes." Party's starting to get a weird feeling about all this. Show Pony had given them some pretty ominous parting words the last time they'd seen aer, but they'd more or less just shaken it off. This, though... Do the two of them know about Jet?

"No one's been able to stay there longer'n a few days my whole life," he says, and Party's skin breaks into goosebumps. "People get too spooked. Some people say it's haunted, but I don't b'lieve that."

Oh, okay. So clearly they don't know about Jet. They're a little relieved, and a little disappointed. They'd sort of been hoping for some answers. "Well, I dunno about that," Party says. "It's a nice place. Needs some fixin' up, but what doesn't?"

"So you  _ haven't _ seen any ghosts?" Show Pony asks, clearly disappointed. "What a shame."

Party swallows; telling these  _ strangers _ about Jet seems like a bad idea. They shrug. "I mean, the building's kinda weird, since it's been abandoned so long an' everything, and there's no animal activity around it, but it's..." they shrug. "It's fine."

"See, I got a theory for why there's no animals 'round there, an' why people can't stay there too long," Dr. Death-Defying says, leaning forward in his chair and pointing emphatically at them. "I think there's some kinda old BLI tech 'round that buildin', keepin' everythin' away."

They blink. "BLI tech?" 

"Yeah!" He leans back in his chair again. "See, my ol' mentor used to live in that diner, back before the city fell, an' he said it was BLI's fault his ol' crew had to abandon the place. Cold spots, stuff flyin' 'round the room, 'lectric shit goin' haywire. All classic signs'a hauntin', yeah?"

"Yeah," Party says, not really sure how else to respond. The cold spots and the stuff flying around are definitely real, but Party hasn't noticed Jet messing with any of the lights or tech stuff. "Wait, your mentor used to live there?!" That's gotta be a member of Jet's crew then, right? "What was their name?!"

"Cherri Cola," he says. "Used to be a DJ in the ol' killjoy days, pretty well-known. Maybe you've heard of 'im?"

Party shakes their head. The name's not familiar, but maybe it will be to Jet. They'll ask him about it later. "No, sorry. But, uh, you were saying? About the diner an'... ghosts?"

"Right! Well, we all  _ know _ there ain't no ghosts, 'cause the Phoenix Witch takes everyone's souls," he continues with a serious glint in his eyes. "Add that to the fact that  _ animals _ won't come nowhere near the buildin', an' it's  _ gotta _ be some kinda BLI tech, yeah?"

"Well, I guess so," Party says. 

"An' the fact that  _ you've _ stayed there so long without any problems means that maybe the tech's wearin' down," he says. "Now... you ever been out to the Edge?"

They shake their head again. There's not a lot of settlements out near the Edge of the desert, as far as they're aware, so the three of them never saw a reason to drive out that far.

"Alright, well, there's the Edge an' then there's the nothin' on the other side, yeah? No one can make it past the Edge without their heart racin' an' their mind playin' tricks on 'em. Not many people these days even  _ try _ to move past the Edge, a'course, since there's no guarantee thare's anythin' out there anymore, and Destroya blesses us with food an' water, anyway." Dr. Death-Defying looks like he could talk about this for  _ hours. _ Party thinks maybe Ghoul's found a rival for rambling. Show Pony's gone over to the couch and started flipping through a zine, Party notices; ae's probably heard this all before.

"My point is," Dr. Death-Defying says, drawing Party's attention back to him, "that if the Edge is old BLI tech an' not somethin' Destroya an' the Witch created--if it's somethin' meant to trap us instead'a protect us--an' that tech's been runnin' for longer than the tech around the diner, then...."

"Then you think the tech around the Edge is wearing out, too?" Well, shit. Now Party  _ really _ doesn't wanna tell him there actually  _ is _ a ghost in the diner; this guy seems really excited by the idea of getting out of the desert. Not that Party can  _ blame _ him; the desert only has so much habitable space, and materials for building and creating things are pretty limited. Being able to leave the desert and explore whatever the hell else is out there would be  _ amazing, _ but... well. 

It's probably not gonna happen.

\-----

Show Pony tells them that their batteries will take a couple of hours to charge, so Party leaves them behind and hops back into the Trans Am to look for those kids from the other day.

The market is open today, with far fewer people trading, but still a decent number. Party spots the kids almost immediately, standing on either side of a battered once-white car, its trunk propped open with a length of scrap wood.

"Hey, Acro Batty! Jelly Beans!" Party waves to them to catch their attention as they head toward the two of them, carefully balancing the stack of books in one arm. "Got a gift for ya!"

Acro Batty bounces toward them, opening his arms to take some of the books from them. "What are these?" he asks, peering at the book on top of his stack.

Party bites the inside of their cheek to hold back a laugh. "Well, they're books," they say, doing their best to keep their voice steady. "Haven't you ever seen a book before?"

The look Acro Batty shoots them is so  _ disdainful _ that Party can't help but let themself laugh. 

"Sorry, kid," they say. "Just teasin' ya! Me an' my crew found a bunch'a old books hidden away yesterday. Ghoul wanted you to have these; says he's read 'em already." They've reached the open trunk of the car by now, and Party offers Jelly Beans a grin as they balance the stack of books on the rusty edge. Now that they're up close, they can see that the trunk is full of _other_ stacks of books, as well as some bundles of dried herbs.

"Wait, these are for us?!" Acro Batty's mouth drops open as his grip tightens on the books. "What do you want for them?"

"Well," says Party, who hadn't actually thought about that, "I guess we could use some herbs?"

Acro Batty and Jelly Beans lock eyes, and Jelly Beans nods to xyr brother. Acro Batty looks back at them. "Take however much you want," he says. 

Party peers back into the trunk. The little bundles of herbs are all organized into neat rows and labeled, the little placards containing both what Party assumes to be the name of the plant, as well as colored dots that they recognize as indicating their medicinal uses. Most of the herbs they recognize, anyway; pleurisy root, licorice, gumweed. They take a few bundles of the plants they recognize. "This is good," they say.

"That's  _ all?" _ Jelly Beans asks, xyr eyes widening. "But-- that's not enough for all these books!"

"Take more," Acro Batty demands. "Or-- or take some of our books in return. For your friend, the one who reads. Fun Ghoul."

"Uh." Party looks back into the trunk, eyes scanning over the spines of books and zines. "Well, I don't really know what he'd like," they tell the kids. "But, uh...  _ oh!" _ Party reaches into their pocket and pulls out the slip of paper Ghoul had handed them earlier. "Ghoul says he's still got these books that he wants to keep for now, but you're welcome to come by an' read any of 'em you want to." They wait for Acro Batty to take the paper and start reading over it with his sibling, then continue, "Why don't you come by the diner sometime an' let Ghoul pick out some books?"

The kids look at each other, an entire conversation taking place in the span of just a few seconds, and Party's once again struck by how similar they are to Kobra and themself, and by how  _ young _ they are. The two turn back to Party and nod in agreement. 

"That sounds like a good deal," Acro Batty says. "But, may I ask...? Why are you trusting us to make good on the deal? We could just take these books and leave town. The chances of you tracking us down and taking them back isn't high. We aren't beholden to this town. Why take the risk?"

Party's not quite sure how to answer. Yes, the books are worth a good deal to anyone who collects them, and if they found such a person, they could trade them for  _ far _ more than a few other books and a handful of medicinal herbs. But... they already have all those clothes as trade, and Kobra and Ghoul's little machines and their skills, and they have the  _ entire diner _ now. They're not exactly hurting for anything; they're  _ rich _ now. What do a few books matter to them? 

They shrug. "I don't need books," they say, "and I don't need money. You could get  _ much _ better use outta them than I could either way."

They both stare at them for another long moment, and then Jelly Beans breaks into a wide grin.

"I think we've got a deal," Acro Batty says. "See you again soon."

\-----

Picking the batteries up from Show Pony takes far less time than dropping them off had, because when Party shows back up, Dr. Death-Defying is getting ready for his radio show, and Show Pony's negotiating a run with someone.

Party can't help but stare at the woman Show Pony's talking to as they collect their batteries. She's a little bit taller than Show Pony is, so about Party's own height probably, and she has  _ bright blue hair. _ Colored hair isn't terribly rare, but the dye is expensive, and it's tough to keep it looking nice. This woman's hair looks  _ naturally _ blue, somehow, bright and with no hint of any other color at her roots, but Party knows that's impossible.

She's wearing a ratty black tank top under a pair of grimy coveralls, grease smeared over one cheekbone. She looks like Ghoul does when he's been working on the Trans Am for hours, so they figure she's a mechanic or something. She's pale, too, paler than most people Party's seen, no freckles or tan to hint that she's  _ ever _ been out in the sun, though Party knows that  _ can't _ be true.

The strangest thing about her, though, is that her arms are clearly mechanical, with exposed metal rods in her fingers and wires visible in her forearms, but the synthetic skin of the arms matches the rest of her body perfectly, and they can't see a single seam anywhere.

Prosthetics aren't uncommon, of course, because there were plenty of them out here before the city fell and the tech's sturdy enough that, as long as you have batteries and a little techy knowledge, you can keep them working. It's just so strange that they can't tell where the prosthetics begin and her actual body does.

They try not to spend too much time thinking about it, though, or watching her; they take their batteries and nod their thanks to Show Pony, and then head out to their car.

Deadfall Drac's a pretty interesting place, for sure. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohoho.... 👀 I'm dropping some LORE on ya!! And who could this mysterious blue-haired woman be?
> 
> This fic is now going on HIATUS. I'll continue writing for it once I've finished writing Playground Eyes, so I can dedicate more time and brainpower to making them both as fun and exciting as I can. You can follow me on tumblr ([@enby-jetstar](https://enby-jetstar.tumblr.com/)) for updates on that front, if you'd like.
> 
> Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this chapter, feel free to leave kudos or a comment! I'd love to hear your thoughts! 💖 You can also send me a message on tumblr!


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